


ordr

by brawlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Choking, Hux and Phasma are bros, Jealousy, M/M, Matt the radar technician - Freeform, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Praise Kink, Wingman Phasma, but also still considered: crack treated seriously, dating/hookup apps, dubcon, dubcon bdsm, general hux is obsessed with paperwork and efficiency, kylo ren tries and fails to be a normal functional human being, not nearly as cracky as it sounds, please heed the dubcon tag, really quite a lot of choking, the grindr au that no one asked for ever, what is chapter length consistency?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawlite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Ordr</b>
  <br/>
  <b>Join the First Order’s largest intimate social network!*</b>
</p><p>  <i>Download free today for your datapad -- casual, discreet & fun!</i><br/><i>*not officially sanctioned by the First Order</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [ordr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764890) by [saerna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saerna/pseuds/saerna)



> because i couldn't stop myself from writing a grindr fic, that's why.

 

> **Ordr**
> 
> **Join the First Order’s largest intimate social network!** *
> 
> _Download free today for your datapad -- casual, discreet & fun! _
> 
> *not officially sanctioned by the First Order

 

Hux squinted down at his datapad, entirely dubious of the whole prospect. It felt wrong, dirty, and very much like he was giving up. But Phasma had suggested the whole deal, had even recommended this app in particular from personal experience. _It’s worth it, Hux. Just give it a shot._ The little red icon blinked into existence at the bottom of the screen and he quickly dragged it into a folder within a folder to hide it from prying eyes -- and maybe also from his own guilt. He wasn’t _lonely,_ alright; he just wanted to get laid. With a schedule like his, it was nearly impossible to get enough free time to make it to the gym, much less to one of the sanctioned leisure areas, regardless of where he was stationed.

With a sigh and a casual admission of defeat, he opened the app and watched it spring to life on his datapad.

The graphics weren’t eye-searing like he might have expected, but the whole thing screamed _utilitarian_ , which he supposed was at least par for the course. It was very First Order: everything was trimmed in sleek black lines with red accenting, with easy to read text overlaying it all in varying boxes and buttons. The name, **Ordr** , in large red letters at the top left of the screen, stayed judgingly put, even as he scrolled to complete his registration.

Not for the last time, Hux was struck with the harrowing thought, _Have I really stooped_ this _low?_

Instead of reevaluating his life choices and moving on to the far more respectable option of completing his monthly personnel reports, he moved onto the next page.

**Complete your profile and then click “Browse” to view your most compatible neighbors!**

He skipped the username and profile picture sections, deciding he would leave those until last. After all, he did have to think of a suitable, yet discreet username for himself that was simultaneously fitting for a man of his title and also still approachable. Instead, he filled in the rest of the profile, adding in his height, weight, body type, and hair color with a small sense of satisfaction: forms were a personal weakness of his. He enjoyed the order and simplicity of filling out minute details and facts on his own reports, and this profile completion task scratched that same exact itch.

The ‘ _Looking for_ ’ section gave him momentary pause, his eyebrows furrowing at the dearth of choices. Was he looking for _Right now_ , _Networking_ , _Friends, Relationships,_ or _Dates_ ? He certainly wasn’t going to be wasting his time looking to find a friend, that was for certain. He mentally crossed off _Relationships_ and _Dates_ as well, noting how he barely had the time to settle down for an after-work drink with his long time peer and confidant, Phasma. That lack of time for something he enjoyed doing didn’t bode well for fostering new relationships. As for _Networking --_ what did that even mean? As General, Hux was practically as networked into the First Order as he possibly could be without actually becoming a droid, amassed into the collective. _Right now_ seemed to be the only viable option, though the definition wasn’t as tailored as he would’ve liked.

Once he had added a few other details, including choosing "male for male," all that was left was the nuisance of a decision about his username -- and, of course his picture. He sighed, taking a quick glance around his quarters for inspiration. He had never been entirely skilled at this sort of creativity; Hux favored tactics and science, not the arts. Eventually, his eyes fell on his chessboard and lingered. Without any other inspiration, he decided something to do with a personal interest would be as good a name as any. And, failing any other spark of creativity, he also decided that a randomly generated string of numbers to finish it off was probably for the best, especially in terms of personal security. After all, he did want this to be at least moderately anonymous, at least until he found someone satisfactory enough to actually meet up with. Of course, at that point in time, he would also be protected by his position: no one would dare call out General Hux, nor would there be rumors flying afterward, as their jobs would be at stake. His reputation and his pride (to some extent) would stay intact. And, as long as he made sure to not approach a direct subordinate, he would not be violating any codes of conduct.

After some thought, it all seemed -- remarkably doable. Perhaps Phasma was right.

The picture, however, was a bit of a challenge. For the same security reasons as wanting a generic username, he also didn’t want a recognizable picture of himself floating around for all of the app to see. He was already stooping to somewhat ridiculous levels, and he neither wanted nor needed to advertise that, even if it was something commonly done. He took a moment to browse a random selection of people and found the results helpful, if not slightly disappointing in terms of choices: it appeared he was certainly not limited to pictures of his face. In fact, he would be in good company, even if that company was not necessarily top-drawer.

Company aside, Hux did not think he was capable of degrading himself quite so much as to take a picture of certain anatomy in such a risque pose, much less than to set it as a user icon for everyone to see. But -- on the other hand, he also had no intention of using a picture of his face.

He sighed and stood. Once the app was set to take a picture, he pointed the camera lense at his stomach and hiked up his shirt with one hand, exposing his toned stomach to the viewfinder. The picture snapped, and Hux drew the datapad closer to his face to inspect the final product. It was -- adequate. He had a nice body: toned and muscular, just like all of the other officers. There was no room for laziness in the First Order, no room for sloth or gluttony. In small moments of weak self deprecation, Hux often wished he were perhaps larger, bulkier with more mass. He was blessed with height, but his shoulders could slope broader and his muscles could be more defined. Genetics had blessed him with long and graceful fingers, too much like a musician’s for his liking. While they made up for their visible lacking by being more than adequate to crush necks beneath their grip, which Hux had done on more than one occasion, he often still wished for sturdier hands. His features in general leaned closer to delicate, opposed to rugged, but he had learned to school them into a vicious scowl at a young age. There was much he would change about himself, if given the opportunity, but there was little point in yearning after something that was not his. He gained little by dwelling on genetic shortcomings. Long ago, he had learned to accept his body and be proud of his commanding stature as it was, how to accentuate it, how to make himself more imposing.

The picture showed his hand hiking up a black regulation uniform, stark against his pale and freckled skin, exposing a line of solid muscle down to his trousers. There was nothing extraordinary about the picture, perhaps except for the line of red hair that cascaded from his bellybutton downward. Red hair was uncommon in the galaxy, but also not unheard of. It wouldn’t necessarily point directly at General Hux, as a picture of his face might, but it would also be enough to draw some attention to his profile, which he supposed was the entire point of the endeavor.

He tapped the save button and apprehensively watched the app load through to the next screen.

 

> **Congratulations,** **_ChessAndTactics71229_ ** **! Your profile is now complete and you are ready to continue. Click Browse to view your most compatible neighbors!**


	2. Chapter 2

No matter how many times Hux has seen Phasma casually sitting in the officer's lounge, drinking espcaf with her helmet off, short-shorn hair looking perfect in its disarray, it was always startling. She was built for statues, for striding into every room like it was a battlefield -- not casual conversation and milling about. There was something brutally disarming about seeing her out of uniform, even slightly. Likely, it wasn't even a cultivated skill, like the firm set of Hux's shoulders or his perpetual scowl; she was simply born to be intimidating in armor, and even more so out of it.

She looked up, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand. Casual, and so deadly. “So?”

With a sigh and a grimace, he slid himself onto the chair across from her. Before he could even take off his hat and rest it on the pristine table a few inches from her helmet, an attendant brought him his own cup of espcaf, the dark liquid steaming up into the brisk air of the base. The taste of the beverage was sharp when it hit his tongue, but enormously satisfying. As a child he had little taste for the drink, but his father had remedied that at a young age, encouraging young Brendol to consume the beverage despite his preference for sweeter juices. Eventually habit became preference, and as an adult he didn’t care for the luxury of sweets. He also couldn't argue with such a large dose of caffeine in the mornings to warm up the chill of the base, to ease the frost from deep in his bones.

"So what, specifically?" Hux knew to what Phasma so blithely referred, but he also disliked the idea that she was omniscient enough as to know that he had downloaded the recommended app in the privacy of his own quarters the night before, barely sitting on the suggestion at all. The idea that he was so predictable to someone, even Phasma, left a foul taste in his mouth that he couldn't blame on the unsweetened espcaf.

Phasma, seemingly unperturbed by the stiffening of Hux's shoulders and the deepening set of his frown, took a sip of her beverage and clarified, "The app. I assume you downloaded it." Charitable, even for her -- for Hux's own benefit, obviously. "Did you have any luck?"

Luck? Was she under the ludicrous impression that he downloaded the app, contacted someone, corresponded with them long enough to determine compatibility, and then actually met up with them for an encounter? Hux gave himself license to look at his companion incredulously, eyebrows raised. "Exactly how much free time are you under the impression I have?" Whatever amount it was, it was certainly more than he was afforded, or that he would afford himself, anyway.

With anyone else, he would be more guarded, but she was a trusted colleague and the closest thing Hux allowed himself to have to a friend. She had his best interests at heart, despite everything his father told him about fraternization with his peers at a young age. Without her, his job would be at least twofold more work and near-impossible, with an operation as large as the one they were running on Starkiller. She had never been out to get him, but that didn’t stop him from fuming at the idea, however, that she believed he had ample amounts of free time to be spending his time so -- frivolously. He took a sip of espcaf and let him be annoyed, if only for a moment. It was a petty indulgence, but he had so few.

Phasma finished off her drink and called for another, never having the common decency to at least look slightly apologetic. Hux wasn’t sure what he expected, because he’d never seen a hit of an apology on her face. “I believe you’re a man who sees something he wants and goes after it, regardless of obstacles. Perhaps I was mistaken in that regard.” She was teasing, but in a way that had his hackles rising, because there was something inherently intimidating about her posture, her voice, her everything. Hux admired that in her, even though he was not necessarily immune.

“I have more important tasks at hand.” The officers lounge was filling up with the usual morning crowd, which signaled a need for his departure within a few moments. Soon, the room would be too crowded and their conversation would no longer be private. “Would you like me to write up reports for each encounter, tactical outlines for each outcome scenario?”

“I would be honored to look them over.”

“I’m sure.”

They fell into a few minutes of banal, but satisfying conversation as they finished their morning beverages. There was always room to speak about the workings of the ship or small pieces of information that bordered on gossip, were not every piece of information important to leaders such as themselves. Even the smallest infraction could hold consequences for the larger organization. And sometimes, seeing Phasma indulge in something so ordinary as leaning over a table and lowering her voice to discuss one of Hux’s bridge crew was particularly satisfying.

Only moments after Hux finished his espcaf and they were discussing an unregistered coupling of two of Phasma’s top lieutenants, his comm unit alerted him to an emergency on the bridge that required his direct response.

“Ren?” Phasma asked, her deft fingers flying over her datapad as she spoke, approving reports and requests from her crew. She was adept at multitasking, a skill that Hux valued in her greatly. She didn’t hide the smirk on her face, however, at Hux’s reason for being summoned away.

“Of course.”

\--

The day was hardly difficult or grueling, but by the end of it Hux found himself collapsing wearily on the stiff couch the moment he set foot in his quarters. The day had been comprised mostly of tactical drills and a small reorganization of a planned mission, both of which hadn’t been particularly difficult. Kylo Ren, however, had been in top form, testing the General’s patience at every turn.

After his shift of what felt like glorified babysitting, Hux felt weary enough that he let himself indulge in a glass of something alcoholic as he made his way through some reports on his datapad. Of course, in an ideal world, he would not need to use his already minimal amount of free time for going over reports and requests, but he was not so lucky. Even with the added benefit of having Phasma at hand to manage the operations of the troops, he still came up short on personal time.

However, uncharacteristically, he found himself with a few moments to spare after he finished all pending messages. He retired at the same time every night, so he had no need to do so early. Instead, he found his eyes drawn to a flashing notification at the top of his datapad that he had been ignoring as inconsequential while he worked on more necessary matters. With a click, his suspicions were confirmed: he had new messages waiting for him on the Ordr app.

His finger hovered over the red icon, hesitant. He had to restrain himself from glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one would witness the embarrassment he felt about opening the app -- as he was alone in his own quarters. Even so, what he chose to do with his free time was his own business. He opened the app and was surprised to find that while he had new suggested matches as well as profile views, he also had an array of personal messages waiting for him.

The results were not particularly heartening.

> _hey baby, ur sexy. lets meet up and i can show u a good time xoxo_
> 
> _Nice muscles. Dick pic?_
> 
> _Your beautiful. Ill have you screaming my name by the end of the night after I make you take my thick cock and pound you through the floor. Youve never had anyone as good as me I promise ;)_
> 
> _do u taste as spicy as ur ginger hair?_

Hux deleted every single message with a frown, including twelve that simply said ‘hey.’ He realized with belated urgency that it was an absolute necessity that he state the importance of grammar on his profile, in hopes of waylaying at least a few of these messages in the future. No encounter was worth having to sift through such dregs, and even someone who was highly skilled in bed wouldn’t be worth a terrible communication beforehand. Hux at least had some standards.

His next pursuit on the app was skipping the selected matches entirely. Instead, he decided he would bypass all of the bullshit algorithms entirely and tackle this endeavor himself by simply sorting through the selection himself. He could at least sort through by profile picture, comfortable enough with himself to accept the fact that he was vain enough for that. Anyone without a profile picture was immediately removed -- he didn’t have time for that. Likewise, he removed any profiles he was immediately turned off by: be it either a picture of someone’s face, their anatomy, or an incongruent inanimate object. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of pictures of guns. Hux had a pistol of his own that was far more immaculately kept.

There were, as he imagined, a far number of stormtroopers on the website. But, surprisingly, there was a large number of people from tech, operations, and command. It was -- both disconcerting and comforting, knowing he wasn't alone. It didn't say much for the First Order’s general social abilities, but perhaps that was for the best. If his officers were too distracted, they wouldn't do their jobs properly. Let them use an app to find a good lay so they could get it off their minds.

The technician’s profiles were easy to spot, the telltale orange of their uniforms usually somewhere in their pictures. The officers and command? Not so much. Hux decided it would be easiest to stick to men who were very clearly stormtroopers, and that way he would at least know what he was getting. The technicians were a realm of his base that he wasn't as intimately familiar with, so he didn't necessarily feel like going with the unknown quantity when he had so little time to spare. Maybe if he found someone worthwhile.

For now, however, Hux pulled up a few profiles of men with very nice bodies and let himself look. Maybe, if he was really lucky, he'd find someone who would stand stock still for him in a corner, posed so he could admire them for hours. Someone he could take apart after making them wait. His expectations were hardly that high, though.

Eventually, he found himself corresponding with one man: olive skinned, sharp featured, and with muscles for days.

\--

“So?”

Hux swallowed half his cup of espcaf in one long gulp, along with a rather strong painkiller, hoping both would help with his pounding headache. “Can't this wait until after I'm properly caffeinated?”

Phasma smiled. Disarmingly. “Not really, no.”

“You already know it didn't go well, or you wouldn't be asking..” He knew that he looked like death warmed over, due to a copious amount of drink taken the previous evening to calm his nerves -- and then, later, to drown his shame and disappointment. Even the general wasn't immune to a hangover -- he just had to look like he wasn't. Phasma, however, seemed immune to almost all of the masks he put on.

“But I need to know just how badly it went. The curiosity is killing me.”

While Phasma seemed quite immersed in her usual task of approving reports over espcaf, Hux knew that he had her full attention, that she was captivated despite Hux giving up nothing more than a groan. “Fine. But only because I'm generous.” And he was being very much so. “He laid there like a dead gooberfish.” He sighed, sipping his caf a bit less vigorously as he spoke, “He was attractive, but I'm not interested in necrophilia.”

“No? I assumed you appreciated the darker aesthetic.” Phasma smirked.

“What?”

Her lips stayed curled as she spoke, keeping the secrets hidden inside her mouth, tucked away from her words, “Nevermind.” Sometimes, Hux wished he had no friends. Perhaps then, life would be simpler, more enjoyable.

“Regardless, it was a failed exercise.” He had gotten off, but at what cost? He felt more stressed out than he had before and he had a hangover. And, to top it all off, now there was a stormtrooper around who he needed to transfer. For the sake of his sanity. “This is what I get for trusting your suggestions.”

When he looked down, Phasma’s hand was laid flat out in front of him, lean and strong fingers curled just so. “Let me see your datapad.” He placed it in her hand, biting back the childish urge to tell her she didn't need to touch it to see it. Hux flagged down an attendant for more espcaf and some sort of greasy breakfast food he didn't normally indulge in while she navigated her way around his datapad, content to sit in relative silence.

Eventually, she found what she was looking for and slid the datapad over to him, a profile from Ordr pulled up on the screen. Hux sighed. Even though he knew she was doing it, it still came as an unpleasant surprise. On the screen was a picture of a smiling and shirtless stormtrooper, though the picture was cut off at the nose so his eyes weren't visible. Not that that protected him from the likes of Phasma, who doubtless already knew his name and rank and promotion timeline. For the sake of appearances and etiquette, he looked over the profile. Impressive and attractive, but -- “No. He is looking for relationships. He specifically says as much.” Hux pulled up one of his pictures of the man, laying in his bunk, and read out the caption, “‘ _Can’t wait to wake up next to you every morning_.’ -- And then a winking face. Do you understand how infinitely against regulation that is? And unappealing?”

“You can be very convincing in making situations work for you. And he’s your type.” She wasn’t wrong. He had dark, emotive eyes and black hair just short enough to be regulation and just messy enough to make Hux want to take a good fistful of it and yank the man to his knees. The fact that the stormtrooper was muscular was a plus, as was the fact that his profile seemed well-written, minus the affinity for childish text expressions.

The disgruntled huff made it past Hux’s lips before he could stop it; he blamed the hangover. While he didn’t necessarily need to have morals in this situation, he had no real desire in duping someone into an arrangement they had no real interest in. While Hux did enjoy throwing his power around in the bedroom, he also didn’t care for blackmail to be part of that either, which he felt as if it might be bordering on. “I’m not convincing one of my men he’s interested in a casual relationship when he, in fact, is clearly not. Especially if he believes his job is on the line.” Which he would, with Hux’s position being what it was.

“If you’re against that. Alright,” Phasma shrugged, pulling up another profile. Completely unbothered. “How about this one?”

“He’s a tech.”

“And?”

And? Well, to start with, Phasma had hardly picked a specimen of a man like her first choice. The stormtrooper had been practically chiseled out of stone, while this man was not so expertly made. **RadarLove** , who was very clearly a radar technician with no sense of personal security, had wild blond hair, deep-set and expressive eyes, and an angular face that looked fiercely uneven. He wore glasses that didn’t fit his face and had a permanent scowl in all of his pictures. He looked _absurd_. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He wasn’t -- unattractive. Not necessarily, anyway. All of his features on their own weren’t overly pleasant, but together they at least worked for the man. Somehow. There was a certain element of charm there, even if it wasn’t particularly well-groomed or commonplace. The fact that his last picture was of him shirtless and absolutely shredded didn’t hurt, either.

“His profile says, _You will never understand the darkness in me_.” Hux frowned, nose wrinkling at the melodrama. He had enough of that in his life already.

Phasma shrugged. “It’s up to you. I think they both would suit what you’re looking for in your little tryst.”

With a sigh, Hux flipped back and forth a few times between the two profiles.

“This man is _ridiculous_.” He spared one last glance at the face of the blonde technician, admiring the uneven line of his jaw. It spoke of character, as did the furrow between his brows and the set of his shoulders, as if he were ready to accost the camera itself. He was charming, in a completely ludicrous way. But, Hux flipped back to the profile of the stormtrooper, admiring that smile and that military stance. The anonymity. Hux was looking for a quick and impersonal lay -- he didn’t need to be charmed, or to count the moles on someone’s neck, to want to watch their dark eyes closed in the half-light of his personal quarters.

“The stormtrooper will do.” Perhaps this one would be better than the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is sex in this chapter. i'm sure you were aware that this was coming, but heads up, i guess?

Hux retreated from his weekly meeting with Supreme Leader Snoke, Kylo Ren trailing behind him like a sullen shadow. The meeting had gone well, but Ren himself had been moderately subdued -- perhaps he had tired himself out from an earlier tantrum that Hux had the good fortune to miss. He wound his way back to the command center, hardly casting a glance to the quietly moving man behind him as he went -- and yet, the presence of Ren was unmistakable. The Knight was light on his feet: despite the noise he made when he lost himself in a turmoil of emotions, Hux often found him shockingly silent. There were times he slid in and out of rooms without notice, times where he startled Hux by suddenly simply _being_ there at Hux’s shoulder without any warning.

Halfway through their walk, Hux broke the silence. It hadn't necessarily been awkward, but hearing the occasional huffs of breath through Ren’s damned voice modulator was growing tiresome. The knight was clearly sulking, but for what reason, Hux was unsure. And he didn't like being unsure. He also didn't like being in the presence of a sulking Kylo Ren -- where every outcome was a possibility, from him snapping and destroying a walk console, to him wallowing in silence for days, useless.  

“What is it?” He bit out through clenched teeth, attempting to sound as disinterested and unimpressed as he was capable.  

The feeling of Ren bristling behind him was palpable in the air: electric and unpleasant. “Nothing.” Even through the modulator, the word was full of bite and malice.

Hux snorted. “Out with it. You're putting me off with whatever mood you're in. It's more intolerable than normal.” The whole thing was a little absurd; Ren’s moods shouldn't effect Hux in the slightest. But he supposed that with all of the cleaning up he did of the knight’s messes and all of the smoothing over necessary for the crew, he at least had a little leeway. If anything, Hux was just concerned with the trajectory of his coming day.

They walked a good distance before Ren fell into stride and answered him, “Your emotions are all over the place. It's exhausting.”

Hux balked, catching himself before his steps faltered out of anger. He at least allowed himself the pleasure of turning to glare at the masked Knight in disgust. “I told you to stay out of my head.” The idea of someone, especially Kylo Ren, poking around his head was nauseating and dizzying. It took Hux longer than he might have liked to quell the anger rising in his throat.

Ren’s voice modulator made a noise, though Hux couldn't tell if it was a breath, a sigh, or a laugh. Or just the general static of Kylo Ren, existing. “It's impossible to ignore."

After a long moment of Hux glaring at Ren, the Knight continued. The reluctance was clear in his words: “You're normally not an easy man to read, General. Your mind is very -- closed.” For a singular moment, Hux let himself feel proud. His normal emotional shields and mental compartmentalization clearly did wonders for keeping Ren out of his head, a fact he found enormously and viscerally satisfying. What was not satisfying, however, that he was currently projecting his emotions all over the place, enough for Ren to just pick up on. “Your thoughts are loud. Disorienting.”

“Well, then stop listening.” 

“I've tried.” Ren waited a beat before speaking again, “The constant switch from sexual satisfaction, to disgust, to hope, and then to regret, is unpleasant. If I could tune you out, believe me, I would.”

To that, Hux had nothing to say.

They walked in silence again for a while. Hux nursed his embarrassment while Ren kept pace alongside him. The corridors were deserted -- they always were when Ren was skulking around: people knew to stay out of his path.

“You are torn.” The voice startled Hux with its softness, even through that damned mask. There was something less oppressive than usual about it, something considerably more open.

There was little use in lying to Ren, though Hux didn't feel much of a need to elaborate. “Yes.”

“About a personal matter, clearly.” And Hux supposed that was fair, given the emotions Ren had read off him. At least Hux wasn't feeling _sexually satisfied_ by work -- even if he had spent his previous evening with a stormtrooper. He imagined it must be rather confusing, to only get the strongest of his own emotions broadcasted, especially for Ren, who was used to getting his way. “Such indecision is not good for the Order.”

“How uncharacteristically concerned for the Order. Perhaps you simply aren't used to the uncertainty, the headache.”

“Perhaps.” There was a long pause before the Knight spoke again, “Perhaps I am concerned for your own headache.”

It was an amusing thought in its implausibility, so Hux let himself smile.

Ren stepped closer, his rough robes brushing up against Hux’s uniform as he walked. The softness in his voice was gone now, and his words were cut with a hard edge, “The idea of emotional intimacy is nauseating to you, repulsive enough that I can taste it. I never thought you the sort of man to sacrifice your personal ideals and comfort for something as mundane as carnal pleasure. Maybe I was mistaken.” And with that, Kylo Ren promptly turned down the nearest hallway in his usual dramatic flair, and was gone.

 _You've got to be kidding me,_ Hux thought. Not only was Kylo not entitled to an opinion on Hux’s personal affairs, Hux shouldn't have been so easy to read and Ren shouldn't have been so _right._ It was absolutely unacceptable that Hux was actually considering meeting with the trooper again, simply because he has enjoyed a night of having someone pliant and responsive underneath him. The easy slide of skin against skin wasn't worth any personal sacrifice of his comfort nor his morals; celibacy was more than worth upholding the dignity of his character. Hux wasn't a man to give himself unto relationships, certainly not the sort that the stormtrooper was yearning for. He was not the type to sleepily wake up next to someone, to open up, to be any sort of family. The night had been enjoyable, yes, but nothing was worth that sacrifice -- Hux blamed the release of endorphins.

He wasn't about to write off the app entirely -- he still was appreciating the stress release of getting laid, but he was definitely going to be more careful with his choices.

\--

“That's unfortunate.” Phasma said, not sounding at all sympathetic. Not that Hux wanted sympathy.

“It was enjoyable,” He mused, closing up the last few of his reports from the computer. “He was very -- responsive. The performance was admirable, but he needed so much coddling. And he clearly wanted this to continue in the future, to develop into something...more.” He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing it from its perfection. The end of the day had hit hard and fast, and Hux was simply done. “And you're aware how I feel about that sort of nonsense.”

“Very.”

The two of them began the long walk toward officers’ quarters, through the winding, metal corridors of the base. The sun had already set, leaving a cool blue light streaming in from the few windows they walked by, bits of light catching off the planet’s snow. “I was considering the benefits of indulging a few more times before transferring him.” Professional, he chided himself.

A noise of vague surprise came from Phasma. “I wouldn't have thought that like you.”

“Obviously, I've finally snapped. Even _Ren_ noticed.”

“Did he?”

Much to both of their displeasures. Hux nodded, “He even pointed it out. Said I was giving him ‘emotional whiplash’ from projecting. In more words.”

“I can only imagine how unpleasant that conversation was for the both of you.” Despite her words of moderate comfort, Phasma seemed to be enjoying herself. Probably mentally laughing at Hux’s misfortune. It was understandable, as he would likely do the same -- not that Phasma would ever get into a similar situation. She was far too composed and above falling trap to such embarrassing foibles.

“He said he expected more of me, basically. I think not necessarily about the encounter itself, but in the...deliberation that followed it.” Hux swallowed, “I can’t say that he’s wrong, unfortunately.” It was dreadful, acknowledging that fact. The monster of the man that was Kylo Ren shouldn’t be allowed to have personal opinions about Hux’s life, and he certainly shouldn’t be allowed to be _right_. It was all just hopelessly tragic.

“Mm.”

Hux grumbled to himself, perfectly happy to carry on the conversation as Phasma was currently allowing him. She did that, occasionally: just let him carry on until he reached some forgone conclusion she had come to hours or days before. “I can’t believe myself. I could just -- call the whole thing a failed experiment.” He could, but the idea gave him unfortunate pause. He was, despite everything, enjoying the release of it all, the forgotten satisfaction. His fatigue had dissipated and he was far less tightly wound, less stiff at the shoulders and less quick to snap at his underlings. Hell, he even had more patience when it came to dealing with Kylo Ren, which was practically a miracle. “But, provided I stick to the original strategy, I believe it could still work.” 

“Good boy,” Phasma’s lips curled into a smile when Hux glared at her for at the endearment. He wasn’t one of her underlings, nor was he one of her bed partners -- he didn’t need to be spoken to in such a manner.

“Save it. I’m just saying I’ll try it again. Don’t get your hopes up.” He pursed his lips, running a tongue over them as he thought. “And I’m certainly not contacting that tech you picked out. He looked absolutely ridiculous.” Unfortunately, the image of the radar tech had stayed with him, even though Hux didn’t know the first thing about him. He was just so distinctive looking that it wasn’t difficult transposing that face onto the simplest of Hux’s fantasies. A well muscled man on his knees, Hux’s gloved fingers in unruly blonde curls. Lush lips parting for Hux’s pale thumb. Toned thighs blooming with bruises and bite marks, trembling as Hux forced him to crawl to the side of the bed to Hux’s awaiting hand. It was so easy. In the fantasies, he didn’t yield easily like Hux’s first disastrous encounter -- no, he pushed back. Challenged Hux’s authority. Made him work for it.

The whole thing was absolutely ludicrous.

\--

The next person Hux contacted was yet another stormtrooper. The encounter was underwhelming and not even close to worth the time Hux had carved out of his schedule for the whole thing.

Next, it was a member of command. Not Hux’s, obviously, but someone visiting the base for long enough that they had set up a profile, but for short enough that Hux would be rid of them within weeks. It was a long couple weeks, awaiting their departure.

Hux made a miscalculation one evening, agreeing to meet with someone who preferred to discuss his sexual predilections in person. The encounter had been -- at least enjoyable, due to the man’s experience, but nothing Hux would have sought out. He didn’t contact the man again, though he didn’t transfer him either. He appreciated and respected someone skilled in his craft, but he also didn’t fancy nursing unanticipated bruises on his thighs for days.

\--

With an alarming lack of trepidation or guilt, Hux opened the app and clicked on the tech's profile for the second time. Interestingly, he had kept seeing the other man's face whenever he had scrolled through his matches, perusing the options. No matter where Hux looked, this strangely proportioned tech kept popping up. Always scowling lopsidedly back at Hux through the screen of his datapad. 

Hux flipped through his pictures with a casual movement of his hand above the screen of the 'pad, frowning at the conclusions he came to. Firstly, the tech clearly had a problem with authority. He never said as much anywhere in his profile, but it was written plainly in the solid lines of his shoulder, the square set of his jaw, the piercing quality of those dark eyes. Hux had seen that look a thousand times in recruits, subordinates, and lovers -- he was intimately familiar with it. Secondly, other than a few pictures and that absolutely ridiculous quote about _darkness_ , **RadarLove** had filled out absolutely nothing in his profile. The whole thing was left intentionally and irritatingly blank. Hux had no way of telling what he was looking for, no way of telling if they were compatible at all, save for the aesthetic impression Hux gleaned from looking at pictures. Thirdly, and most annoyingly, Hux was most assuredly attracted to him. And how perplexing was that? An attraction to a lowly, awkward radar tech he had never met in real life, never even spoken to online.

But he just kept _seeing_ him on the app. Every time Hux's eyes caught on a flare of orange from a tech uniform in the last few days, he had looked hopefully for blond hair and wide shoulders.

It was deplorable. Reprehensible. 

He opened a new message with a slide of his forefinger, though he then paused: momentarily unsure what to write. For a long moment, he considered his options and wording, before he started typing, 

> _Hello. I am reaching out to you to see if you would be interested in meeting one evening after Gamma shift. I cannot help but notice that you continue to come up in my matches._
> 
> _-_ **_ChessAndTactics71229_ **

Short, precise, and to the point. His fingers hovered over the data pad, feeling compelled to write more, but not knowing entirely what, exactly, that 'more' should be. Hux still couldn't get over the melodrama of the only completed section of this man's profile, and yet -- and yet he was still messaging him. It was deplorable, really, just how desperate Hux was.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop picturing breaking that problem with authority from the other man, making him beg and plead and break, all according to Hux’s will. Surely a radar technician could have a few things to learn about kneeling for a General. And surely Hux could work some time out of his busy schedule for the betterment of his ranks.

His datapad chimed with the arrival of a new message while Hux was pouring himself an indulgent glass of expensive Corellian whiskey. He didn’t always go for the pricier options, but he did treat himself every once in awhile -- and with his recent lapse in personal integrity, he figured he deserved something nice to make the guilt quit boiling in his gut. He swiped a hand over the datapad, unprofessionally eager to read the new message, even if it was another one of the twenty ‘ _hey_ ’’s he received daily.

> _Tomorrow evening._
> 
> _-_ **_RadarLove_ **

Attached to the message was a location haphazardly circled on one of the base’s schematic maps, which Hux recognized immediately as an unused storage room on one of the lower levels. Well, at least **RadarLove** ’s profession offered him the ability to scout the base for unused areas for sordid rendezvous. Hux’s practical knowledge did as well, as the construction of Starkiller had been a cherished project of his, but he was far too busy now to keep up with every minute change. Often, he wandered past areas he thought to be unused, only to find that they had long since been re-requisitioned as training areas, storage rooms, or even, one time, temporary bunks for a part-time work crew. 

> _Agreed._
> 
> _-_ **_ChessAndTactics71229_ **

The datapad chimed almost immediately as Hux placed it back down on the table, with another reply.

> _Do not touch my hair. Do not call me demeaning names. And do not attempt to talk ‘dirty’._
> 
> _-_ **_RadarLove_ **
> 
> _Understood. I  will see you tomorrow evening._
> 
> _-_ **_ChessAndTactics71229_**

There was something Hux respected about **RadarLove** being so upfront about his desires. Hux was less specific in his dealings with other users on the website -- he preferred to negotiate his preferences in person, but he did appreciate directness when there usually was none. Now, he knew not to make specific blunders that could have been so easily avoided. A useful strategy that he would perhaps consider for the future.

Allowing himself to feel something akin to a small amount of excitement, he brought up his personal schedule and allotted out the time for himself after Gamma shift. He would appear as busy to anyone who attempted to contact him or wished to schedule an appointment with him. Finally, he would be able to get this ridiculous tech out of his system, and would then proceed through the app to find a one suitable partner after another, hopefully avoiding any unsatisfactory encounters. Eventually, sometime in the future, he would tire of the whole endeavor, and would look back on it later with some pride and perhaps a bit of remorse at his own foolishness.

\--

The lower levels of the base were warmer than the rest of the structure, heated partially geothermally and due to the heat produced by the resonator built into the core of the planet. Hux felt his body warm as he made his way from his windowed office near the control room and down into the bowels of the base. He suppressed the desire to unbutton the first button of his collar, desiring the mental armor that his impeccable uniform provided him over his own internal comfort. After all, first impressions were vitally important. His heart was pounding a fraction faster than usual, but he wrote that off as eager anticipation of the encounter, opposed to nerves: he was a General. He had walked into battle countless times -- this was only yet another at worst. At best, it would be a nice reprieve for the night.

When he entered the predesignated room, Hux found **RadarLove** already there, despite his own early arrival. The man was just as hulking and large as his profile pictures suggested -- and just as deplorably informal. Sloppy. He was sitting slouched on top of a storage crate, posture lax and hair brutally unkempt. Hux instantly wanted to right him with the careful press of a hand and a few well placed words.

“Hello.” Hux tried, already finding the radar technician’s eyes on him from the second he had entered the room. They were wide and dark, soulful in their depths -- full of raw emotion, and something Hux couldn’t quite place. Surprise, maybe.

After a beat, the tech’s eyes narrowed. “You.”

It was hardly a question, but Hux felt put upon to answer as such. He’d done this before, knew this would happen: he was prepared. “Yes I’m General Hux. And it would be in your best interest to never mention this encounter outside this room.” He wasn’t above threats, but he saw little need to elaborate. He’d already transferred two someones based on these liaisons and he wasn’t averse to doing it again. Especially, if someone decided to try a hand at sullying his name. “Is that understood?”

“Yes.” His voice was rough and low, and strangely pleasing. **RadarLove** rose from his perch on the crate, his ungainly form uncoiling somehow both fluidly and awkwardly as he made his way over to Hux. He was tall -- taller than Hux himself, which was a feat -- and highly muscled. More muscled than Hux imagined most radar technicians were, but that was hardly a problem. Hux indulgently let himself look. That was the point of the encounter, wasn’t it? So, look he did, as **RadarLove** approached. Stars, he was going to have to find out what to call this other man. A username simply would not do for such an affair.

The man came to a halt in front of him. “Call me Matt. I’m a radar tech.” Ah, yes, as if Hux hadn’t already sussed that one out. From the username, from the uniform, from everything. But helpful, none the less, on the name front. “You remember my rules?”

Hux nodded curtly. “I do.” For propriety's sake, he repeated them. After all, Hux had been raised with an emphasis on manners and social niceties. All to help him rise to the top of the ranks -- which he had. “Don’t touch your hair. Don’t call you names. And no speaking lewdly.” When Matt nodded, Hux let himself continue. “I have some requests of my own, if you wouldn’t mind.” If Matt did mind, Hux had no compunction about turning on his heel and leaving immediately.

The other man nodded once more, and Hux let himself appraise the tech once again before he spoke. After all, he wanted at least a first visual impression before he made any demands -- some sort of control, to compare Matt’s reactions to. They were now standing only a few feet apart, but that only sharpened Hux’s view. Matt stood only a few inches taller than him, but he had considerable more bulk to his form. His shoulders were broader, his chest wider, his jaw larger and sharper. His grey uniform jumpsuit was unzipped to his waist, and his orange tactical vest was loosely hanging, unbuckled, overtop a plain black shirt. The shirt itself left little to speculation, in terms of Matt’s muscles: he was built, appreciatively so. Not overly so, but certainly leaving little to be desired.

Hux pulled his gaze from Matt’s torso and back to those dark eyes. He let no tells come to his own face, not even the fact that he was both impressed by and attracted to the other man, despite all his common sense. “I do not bottom. That is non-negotiable.” There was absolutely no chance that he would even consider it with someone who held a rank beneath him, especially someone as lowly as a radar technician. It would be both unheard of and deeply humiliating, both personally and professionally. And, considering nearly everyone on both the base and in the Order were beneath him in rank, there was little chance of Hux taking such a position in the near future. “As I mentioned before, you will not mention this encounter outside this room. You will only correspond with me via the application, _Ordr_. And you will never acknowledge me in person -- in fact, you will do your best to avoid all situations that might put yourself in the command center.” He’d never seen Matt around before, but he was already doubting his ability to ignore the presence of the other man if he suddenly decided to make himself present. Phasma would surely notice Hux’s wandering attention -- but Kylo Ren might as well, and Hux wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs. Never having another roundabout conversation again with Ren about Hux’s sex life would be too soon. “This is just a liaison, not anything else. ”

Matt took an audible breath, but he didn’t look displeased. If anything, he still looked strangely surprised. Hux wasn’t sure if it was because he was still tied up over the fact that _Ordr_ user **_ChessAndTactics71229_** also happened to be General Hux of the First Order, or because Matt had come to this meeting expecting to bend his partner over a storage crate. Either way, Matt’s eyes were deeply expressive and he was clearly conflicted, but he wasn’t frowning. Finally, he spoke, in the same stilted and abrupt fashion as before, “Yes, alright.” No trepidation, no hesitation: Hux could work with that.

Before Hux could say anything further, Matt was taking a stride forward and closing the distance between them, shrugging off that blasted orange vest as he went. “You talk too much, General.” 

There was little finesse as Matt’s hands cupped his face, when warm lips collided eagerly with his own. Matt’s movements were carnal and insistent, and Hux found himself easily yielding to the passion of it instead of pushing the other man away in surprise. This was exactly what he’d wanted, and not at all what he thought he’d get out of this awkward, lanky man. On instinct, Hux went to bury a hand in Matt’s hair as he kissed back, but immediately remembered himself and settled his palm on the back of the other man’s neck. More leverage that way, anyway. Matt made a noise very much like a moan into the General’s mouth, and Hux indulged by gripping his neck tighter.

Matt kissed like he was fighting Hux for dominance, something that Hux found himself appreciating. Teeth tugged at his lip, large hands pulled at his neatly groomed hair, and teeth clinked against his own; and Hux gave back as good as he got. He bit at Matt’s lip until he could taste hints of iron and worked a hand under his shirt, finally letting himself admire that muscular form under closer inspection. Matt’s skin was warm and taut under his hand, and instantly Hux found himself pressed hard against a dingy wall, the tech eagerly up against him.

Hux appreciated having some push for control in his sexual encounters, also while knowing he would ultimately win. He didn’t want to spend precious mental resources while otherwise engaged, worried about maintaining dominance, but he also didn’t want his partners to simply bend over backward to each and every one of Hux’s whims. That was _boring_. He liked the push and pull, the thrill of the encounter. And Matt was certainly giving him that. And more, with the way he was now attacking Hux’s neck with his teeth.

“Careful, Matt.” However nice it felt having Matt’s teeth breaking blood vessels in the sensitive skin of Hux’s neck, he didn’t want anything that he had to worry about covering when he was on duty. Instead of fisting a hand in those unruly blonde locks like he wanted to, he fisted his hand around the tech’s throat, easing him back. “How about we put that mouth of yours to a better use?” It really was a nice mouth, as they came. Matt’s lips were full and kiss bruised, wet with spit and a bit of blood. He knew how to use his lips and his teeth and his tongue, which meant he was either experienced, had an oral fixation, or both. Either way, it boded well for what Hux was after.

Matt licked his lips, a slow and thoughtful movement, perhaps noticing the way Hux was staring. Hux nearly mentally chastised himself for admiring so outwardly, but then remembered exactly what they were doing here and thought better of it. It didn’t matter if Matt knew he was attracted to him; that was the general hope, when two people met up to have sex.

Without needing Hux to prompt him, Matt dropped unceremoniously to his knees. He looked up at the General, and the image was straight out of one of his depraved fantasies. “You are gorgeous on your knees,” He murmured, drawing his thumb over Matt’s jawline. The other man melted under the praise, leaning into the hand, so pliant and willing. Hux filed that one away for later. For now, he simply undid his trousers and freed his cock, already hard and leaking from their earlier activities. “Go on.” He ordered, when Matt met his eyes.

The technician eagerly opened his lips and took Hux’s length into his mouth in one fluid motion, taking no break until his nose brushed against the red curls of Hux’s hair. Hux groaned, while Matt set about proving his experience. For a moment, Hux had no idea what to do with his hands -- usually, he would tangle them in a partner’s hair, tug and pull and guide them along, but that was not an option, no matter how much he desired to pull Matt’s hair and see his face contort in pain -- so he pressed his palms flat against the cool wall while Matt worked him over with his mouth. He lost himself in it for a while, zoning out rather spectacularly whenever the other man did a very specific trick involving his tongue.

Briefly, he examined the possibility of pulling Matt off him, of bending the other man over a stack of storage crates and having his way with him. But this location was clearly one for brief encounters and sordid acts, not lengthy affairs. And the idea of taking Matt apart, of taking his time with it, was just too appealing. He wanted Matt to beg him, to drag his nails down Hux’s back, to be pleading by the end of it for Hux to let him come. Hux bucked his hips and felt Matt jolt and swallow around him, imagining fucking into him after his orgasm, after Matt was loose and pliant and oversensitive.

Matt growled around him, a wet and needy sound that brought him back into the moment, and gripped Hux’s balls like a vice. He sped up his pace, dug his fingernails into the back of Hux’s thigh with his other hand, and that was it -- Hux was gone, lost in his orgasm. He choked out a groan and shuddered, letting the pleasure wash over him as Matt licked him clean, swallowing down each and every drop. He tipped his head back against the wall, allowing himself a couple seconds to breathe and come back to reality. Usually, he did not allow himself to lose his consciousness to fantasy like that, but it had just been so easy -- and easier still, that he was fantasizing about the person he was with.

“So good,” He murmured, looking down to brush his fingers over Matt’s cheek, “You were so good.” He tipped his fingers under Matt’s chin to urge him upward. “Come up here.” He tucked himself back into his trousers as Matt stood, wobbly, in front of Hux. His face was flushed and his lips were slick with spit and semen, and for a brief moment, Hux didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight.

Matt’s lips quirked into a smile, perhaps a delayed reaction to the praise, or simply a job well done. Hux wasn’t sure which, but it was a good look on him, despite how much Hux did appreciate that ridiculous scowl he’d seen in Matt’s profile pictures and in that first moment Matt laid eyes on him. “I believe you deserve something nice in return.”

Hux swiveled their positions, pushing Matt until he was flush against the wall. “You are very skilled with your mouth.” He worked a hand between them, palming the other man through his jumpsuit, unsurprised to find him hard. When Hux worked him out and into the palm of his hand, he found him warm against his skin and already leaking at the tip. Matt’s cock was large, not unshocking for his height and size, with a pleasing girth for Hux to wrap his fingers around. Once Hux fully gripped him and began moving his fingers over the other man, Matt crumbled into the sensation.

It was a beautiful sight to watch, Matt’s angular face twisted up in pleasure as he slowly lost himself over to the sensations. Briefly, Hux considered if Matt normally repressed all of this, with the way he so wholeheartedly lost himself it all. If that was the case, Hux was glad to help him lose himself. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To break this man, to make him beg and weep and whimper. It was a ridiculous thought, that he wanted so much, and barely knew him -- but he couldn’t deny it, not while watching Matt like this.

Hux pressed his lips to the other man’s, wrapping the fingers of his free hand to his neck as he kissed him, as his hand worked his length. He licked into Matt’s mouth, devouring each and every noise he made, eating up each whine and whimper. He couldn’t get enough. His hand worked a brutal rhythm, stroking Matt’s length efficiently, only yielding to change the pace or rhythm in an attempt to draw out more and different noises from his partner.

Once Matt was writhing against him, moaning into Hux’s mouth, gasping and truly debauched, Hux eased his pace. It was a delight to watch, Matt’s eyes widening in surprise and fury. “Please,” he gasped, fingers grasping against Hux’s arms, clawing at the fabric of his starched uniform, “Stars, Hux -- _please_.”  His cheeks were flushed and sweat was dripping down his temples -- up close, Matt was truly a sight to behold. Kiss-bitten lips, dilated pupils, and gods, that voice. He could listen to that voice for hours.

“Ask me nicely.”

“Please, General. Please, let me,” Matt groaned, folding his face into the crevice between Hux’s neck and shoulder. Whining. 

And that was just so sweet, Hux had to oblige. He slowly brought the pace of his strokes back up, watching and listening to Matt dissolve against him. The pace was again unforgiving, but Hux made no move to stop. He chose the exact strokes and movements that made Matt moan and whine the loudest, and offered him verbal praise and affirmations into his ear. It was only a moment before Matt was gasping wetly against the skin of Hux’s neck, coming warmly into Hux’s fist.

Matt panted, leaning against Hux for a long juncture. The bulk of him was heavy and hot, and while Matt did little to ease Hux’s load, Hux found himself unconcerned. He was enjoying the simultaneous thrill and satisfaction of release, feeling complete and more at ease than he had in months. Blissful, was what it was. He allowed himself a brief lapse in sanity, leaning down to press his lips against Matt’s sweaty hair. It wasn’t a kiss, just a press and a brief inhale before he remembered himself, straightening to a more military posture. He wasn’t sure if the rule about touching Matt’s hair extended to his lips, though the tech seemed unfazed. Hux let it go, easing Matt backward with a firm hand on each of his arms. “Still with us?” 

Matt smiled, his lips crooked and wide, and Hux felt his chest tighten. First, in fondness, and then in concern. He was not _fond_ \-- he was merely sated.  

“Yes, thank you. General.” The title was tacked on as an afterthought -- perhaps Matt somehow guessed just how much Hux enjoyed his title. It wasn’t a difficult fact to glean, anyway.

Hux brought out his handkerchief and wiped the mess from his hand. Then, he straightened out his uniform and his hair, returning himself to some semblance of presentability. At least he was only heading back to his room. “Thank you, Matt. I must admit, that was quite -- enjoyable.” He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he was certainly impressed. Impressed enough that he was willing to let this happen again -- perhaps in a location more conducive to a prolonged encounter. In fact, he was rather _hoping_ that it would happen again.

“Yes, well.” Matt had begun sorting himself out, though he ended up looking just as disheveled as before. Hux reached over and untwisted one of the straps on his orange vest. Matt looked down and watched the movement carefully with wide eyes, teeth digging into bruised lips. “I -- should,” He inched toward the doorway “Maybe. Yes,” And with that, he turned and left. 

All in all, it was perhaps the best encounter Hux had had to date involving _Ordr_ , up to and including Matt’s sudden and awkward exit. For what the man lacked in social skills, he made up for in enthusiasm and proficiency. Hux ran his clean hand over his hair, making sure it was all in place before he set about the trek back to his quarters, feeling satisfied and relaxed.

The next morning, Phasma had to alert Hux to a couple millimeters of bruise peaking out from underneath his uniform collar.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re looking quite content.”

Hux winced around his sip of steaming espcaf, shooting a glare in Phasma’s direction from across the large table. She was grinning, wide and predatory. “Could you please not. Everyone else will be here in a moment.”

“The meeting starts in ten minutes. You’re paranoid.” She looked far too delighted, just like she had when she had pointed out the bruising on Hux’s neck the day before. “We haven’t had a proper chance to catch up: let’s catch up.”

“Now is really not the optimal time.”

“Is it not?”

Hux shot a glance at the doorway to the room, though it was empty, just as it had been moments ago. “Ren is notoriously early to these meetings. And I would really prefer skipping a repeat of my earlier conversation with him about this, so.” In fact, everything would be better if he didn’t have to talk about this with either Ren or Phasma. His sex life was most comfortably left between him and whomever he was currently bedding.

Phasma paused, appraised him in a very disconcerting fashion, and then let her lips curl up into a self-satisfied grin, “It was the tech, wasn’t it.” Not even a question -- ever omniscient: she already knew the answer.

Hux groaned, his eyes flitting toward the door again. Empty, still. “Yes,” He hissed out through his teeth, straightening his posture in his chair, folding his hands across the table in front of himself. Ready, in the event that anyone were to arrive early to the weekly unit personnel meeting.

“Your type, wasn’t I correct?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Phasma coaxed, leaning toward Hux, the silver of her armor glinting in the cold, blue light of the meeting room. She never removed her armor in these meetings, though she did forgo her helmet for the ease of diplomatic discussions. Hux always did think she was more intimidating without it, at any rate. There was just something about her face, her jawline, the glint in her eyes -- she was vicious, and Hux loved it.

A sigh. “Yes, you were right, Captain.”

“I find that Captain Phasma is almost always right.” A voice sounded behind Hux, very nearly causing Hux to startle, but he retained his composure. A familiarly agitating voice, pitched through a modulator. _Stars_. Hux squared his shoulders, stiffened his posture, and grimaced. He also allowed himself to sigh, because of course Ren was early, and of course he overheard part of their conversation.

He turned his head, taking in the tall, cloaked and masked figure. Ren was imposing at all times -- but he was the stark opposite of Phasma. The Knight of Ren carefully cultivated his appearance to be threatening and foreboding, appealing to the baser instincts of people to fear him. Phasma simply was intimidating down to her core. Even in the training rooms, in the loosest of workout clothes with sweat making her hair stick up at odd angles, she terrified the new recruits. Hux respected Phasma’s presence. Ren’s, not so much.

“Eavesdropping. How civil.” Hux sneered, topping up his beverage with a pitcher on the table before it was depleted by the rest of the meeting’s attendants. There was something about Ren that put Hux on edge the moment he skulked into a room. It was frustrating, the way Hux’s attitude turned sour and his words migrated toward sarcasm and petty insults, but he had long ago accepted his less than stately fate when it came to Ren. “You’re early.”

Phasma leaned back in her seat, seemingly content to watch the General and the Knight speak. At least her presence would keep things from escalating; Ren typically kept himself a little more restrained around her. For whatever reason, Phasma and Ren somehow _got along_ \-- Hux had no idea how the Captain managed it.

“I’m curious, General.” Ren didn’t take a seat at the table with the rest of the _commoners_. Instead, he loomed in the corner nearest to Hux, behind him like a sullen statue. It was infuriating and childish, and Hux had a sneaking suspicion that Kylo Ren did it only to anger him. “About what was the lovely Captain correct about this time?”

“That was a personal conversation.” Hux gritted out from between clenched teeth.

“It was said in a public venue.”

Hux’s composure very nearly broke, but he was saved by the arrival of the first attendees of the meeting filtering into the room with hushed voices and downcast eyes. They already knew Ren was there, and no one wanted to draw attention to themselves. Hux could only thank the stars that they arrived when they did, throwing a cog in the gears of that conversation, though that didn’t stop Phasma from casting glances and sly smirks at him during the entirety of meeting. It also didn’t stop Hux from feeling Ren’s eyes on him the entire time, burning through his back, even though he never turned to check.

\--  

> _Again?_  
>  _-_ **_RadarLove_ **

The message was waiting for him when Hux retired for the evening. He had been aware of it in the early afternoon, but had declined to look at it until he was done with his shifts. With practiced discipline, he made himself wait. After all, he’d already been distracted enough with thoughts of Matt the radar technician for the past couple of days -- he didn’t need to make it worse.

After all, it could’ve been bad news. A simple ‘ _that was enjoyable, but never again’_ seemed to be the worst case scenario, but Hux also figured Matt to be the type to never message him again if he wasn’t interested, to simply never reply to any of Hux’s messages. _‘Again?’_ wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but the blissful look on Matt’s face had been. 

> _I would enjoy that._  
>  _-_ **_ChessAndTactics71229_**

> _Good. Tonight? Same location._  
>  _-_ **_RadarLove_ **

For a solitary moment, Hux’s heart felt like it stopped in his chest. He liked to plan encounters. He liked to mentally prepare himself for most situations. He could easily function on the fly, but that didn’t mean he necessarily _enjoyed_ it. But -- but even then, even with his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t want to say no. A small sliver of anxiety spiked at the thought of walking into a situation mentally unprepared, but it was immediately quelled by the thought of getting his hands on Matt once again.  

> _One hour. I’ll see you there._  
>  _-_ **_ChessAndTactics71229_ **

Before Hux could think any better of it, he sent the message off. He didn’t want to push the encounter too late -- first, for his the sake of his own sleep schedule, and second, for his overwhelming need to repeat the encounter. He didn’t have the patience to make himself wait.

It was only as he was ducking into the shower that he realized he should’ve tried to angle for a more private location, such as Matt’s quarters. Obviously, Hux wasn’t about to invite anyone back to his own quarters -- that would be far too undignified. It was also against a self-imposed personal rule of his; he didn’t want anyone he didn’t know and trust in his living space. But if he got Matt to offer up his own accommodations, Hux could capitalize on the location and truly take his time with the other man.

For now, he would make do.

\--

It was easy, letting himself fall into a familiar pattern with Matt. Hux would meet him in the storage room (the technician always beating him there), and then they would collide together, a storm of passion, fury, and desire. Never once did Hux come out of it without a few scratches and bruises, without blood underneath his fingernails -- but also never once did he leave unsatisfied. Each time it got easier, each time he grew more accustomed to where to touch Matt to make him whimper, where to bite to make him fall apart. But while the encounters never left him unsated, he also found himself wanting _more_.

  
_“The things I could do to you in a more intimate location...”_  
_“Yes.”_

   
_“We should meet somewhere more private next time.”_  
_“Mm.”_

   
_“In a bed, I would the opportunity to take you apart for hours.”_  
_“You would.”_

Each time, Matt brushed his hints off, never once offering his own quarters. Sometimes Hux could’ve sworn the technician even half smiled, as if he knew the consternation he was causing; it was all growing increasingly frustrating. While Hux _could_ find someone else off the application to yield their own quarters for a sexual encounter with him more willingly than Matt, he found himself feeling disinclined to change partners. It wasn’t as if he was particularly attached to Matt -- the sex was simply very good and they were highly compatible.

And maybe he was getting a little used to the way Matt moaned into his mouth, the taste of the other man’s skin on his tongue, the weight of his cock in Hux’s fingers. But there was no harm in familiarity, only in fondness. And of Matt, the irritating and undisciplined, Hux was most definitely not fond. He simply tolerated his inadequacies for the sake of a decent lay.

But Hux only had so much patience.

“For the love of --” Hux snarled into Matt’s mouth before pushing him backward again by the throat with an abrupt and stilted movement. How he yearned to fists his hands into Matt’s hair and drag him about that way -- but Hux respected his boundaries and made sure to leave fingerprint bruises on the other man’s neck in repayment for his troubles.

Matt pressed forward, forcing his throat against Hux’s hand, attempting to lean back into the kiss. He was already flushed, his pupils dilated, his lips kiss-bitten and swollen. He growled, a decently ferocious noise coming from only a human throat, “Will you kriffing let me --” Suddenly, he fell back as Hux pushed him with a swift movement, unsteady and startled on his feet. For a moment, he looked betrayed. It was a good look on him, those dark eyes so expressive and broken, if only for a second.

“Put yourself together.” Hux drew a hand over his own disheveled hair to right it, brushing down any wrinkles in his uniform with a quick hand. With a sneer, he glanced around the storage room, “I tire of this location.” Tremendously. Down to his very core. In fact, he never wanted to see it again, even on schematics. “We are going back to my quarters.”

“What?” Matt’s voice was low, already wrecked with desire, but it was easy to pick out the surprise.

“We’re going back to my quarters. Come on, or I’m leaving without you.”

Hux waited a beat, giving Matt a moment to collect his thoughts and his orange vest that he’d discarded before Hux had arrived, and then he was moving toward the door.

“I assumed you preferred to keep your quarters private.” Matt’s voice echoed teasingly behind him, with a bit more bite than necessary. Especially for someone who refused to offer up their own quarters. Hux let it slide, more interested in the immediate proceedings than picking a fight.

“I do, but I’d also prefer to fuck you, and I’m not deigning to do so in a kriffing storage room.” His voice was quiet, pitched low enough that no one would overhear their conversation. Not that he’d seen a soul in this sector of the base at this time of night before. Still, he walked quickly and Matt kept pace easily.

The walk from the storage room to the senior officer’s quarters was simultaneously a long and short one. The time seemed to drag on, the monotonous corridors falling into each other in Hux’s view -- and yet, his anxiety rose with each step. He had never brought a bed partner back to his quarters. He wasn’t that stupid. Or -- he hadn’t been, previously.

His posture stiffened as they made their way closer to the officer’s quarters -- it was deep into Gamma shift, but the changes of running into another person were not negligible. When Hux spared a glance to Matt, who was walking at his side and back a couple of paces, he was pleasantly surprised. The other man stood with the posture of a tech, nonchalant but also subservient, occasionally glancing down at a datapad as he walked, as if he were too busy for a common repair. Hux appreciated the dedication to image; if anyone saw them, they might simply assume Hux needed technical assistance in his rooms.

As they neared the final corner closest to the senior officer’s quarters, Matt suddenly spoke, never looking from from his datapad, “Did you try turning it off and back on again?” His voice was both bored and annoyed, and for a moment, Hux was frozen with confusion. _What?_ But when Hux looked up, another officer rounded the corner -- within earshot, eyes falling on both Hux and the technician. Ah.

“Yes. Of _course_ I tried turning it off and back on again.”

“Uh huh.” Matt sounded perfectly unconvinced. The other officer passed by them, attention diverted, and eventually they passed out of earshot.

Hux didn’t bother with anything as trite as a _thank you_. After all, there would be plenty of time for rewards inside his quarters. Instead, he walked quickly to his own doors and pressed his hand to the scanner in the wall. The door slid open and Hux beckoned Matt inside. “After you.” Nervous energy burned in his gut: he was opening his living quarters to a stranger, someone he barely knew. He should know better.

Matt took no time to explore or to situate himself in his new surroundings. The second the door closed, the technician was upon Hux, shoving him roughly against the cold metal of entrance. If were possible, Hux would think Matt were kissing him more roughly than usual, more obscenely. Perhaps it was the location, the freedom that came with it, knowing they had ultimate privacy. Hux groaned into it and let himself get lost in the sensation. Finally, he was back in his own space and -- remarkably comfortable with having Matt in it.

There was no danger in letting Matt manhandle him a bit; Hux knew by now that at the end of the evening the dynamic would shift back in his favor. It was easy and simple to let Matt grab his hands and pin him to the wall, to press a muscled thigh between Hux’s legs. It was freeing, in a way, to give into it. He so rarely let anyone show any sort of dominance over him that even the slightest bit of a relinquishment of control to another person was highly intoxicating.

Hux groaned when Matt’s teeth found his neck, when Matt shoved him against the wall harder, knowing just how much the General was enjoying this. But -- “Bed,” Hux choked out, “We’re here for the bed, not to rut against my door in the foyer, Matt.”

Mat just chuckled into the crook of Hux’s neck, his mess of blond hair tickling at Hux’s nose. “ _Fine_.” He wasn’t much of a talker, even though he had a pleasant voice, deep and resonating. Occasionally Hux would get full sentences out of him, but more often than not he’d only get a single, solitary word.

Without protest, Matt hoisted Hux up in his arms in a startlingly fluid movement and proceeded to carry him into Hux’s bedroom, depositing him rather unceremoniously on the pristinely made bed. The crisp black sheets creased underneath Hux’s weight, though Hux hardly paid attention to the unmaking of his order; his eyes were on Matt, still standing tall next to Hux’s large bed. Matt’s eyes surveyed the room as he began to disrobe, “Unsurprisingly clean,” he mused. Hux watched Matt strip out of his clothes, allowing himself the momentary pleasure of such a mundane thing: he’d never seen the technician fully nude before. Only in bits and pieces.

He didn’t even flinch when Matt began throwing his clothes into a haphazard pile on the floor. Orange vest first, then the jumpsuit. When the other man pulled off the regulation black undershirt, Hux found his mouth watering. He’d seen a picture of Matt without his shirt on, but the view in person was far more breathtaking. His muscles were cut in harsh yet pleasant lines, sloping down him like topography, his skin riddled with bruises that Hux knew came from his own hands and scars from elsewhere. He bit back the sudden need to touch, to trace those scars with his fingertips and his tongue. “Come here,” Hux ordered, instead of asking where they came from.

Matt came. Crawling up the bed like a kriffing pleasure slave, looking like he belonged forever in Hux’s bed. Briefly, Hux entertained the thought of keeping him there.

“You’re still wearing clothes,” The technician complained as he straddled Hux’s legs, those sinful lips turned down in a frown.

“Don’t complain.” Hux chided, giving Matt a swift swat to his bare ass. The sound of the slap resonated throughout the room, as did the low sound of Matt’s moan in response. Well -- that was certainly new. And something that Hux could work with. “Oh, did you like that?”

The blush that rose to Matt’s face was immediately evident, though he tried to hide it by going for Hux’s neck. Hux let him have that solace for a moment, if only because he was distracted by palming the other man’s ass, enjoying the feel of warm, smooth skin underneath his hands. He spread the cheeks, parting them until Matt moaned against his neck again. Impressively sensitive. “You’re very responsive.”

“And you’re still fully dressed.”

The snarky remark earned Matt another swat from Hux’s hand, which in turn earned Hux another moan, choked out of Matt’s throat like it had been a surprise. Likely, it was. It was a nice chain reaction he’d found, and he fully intended to exploit it at a later date, when he wasn’t so preoccupied with getting his hands on every inch of Matt’s skin as possible.

Hux didn’t deign to give Matt a response -- he had little desire to strip out of his own clothes. He liked this right here: wearing his uniform with a fully nude Matt straddling him, his thighs brushing up against the coarse material of Hux’s trousers. He liked imagining Matt’s subtle discomfort, as well as his shame for being naked while Hux was clothed.

“Open,” Hux instructed, pressing two fingers to Matt’s mouth. The technician yielded instantaneously and beautifully, parting his lips for the intrusion of Hux’s pale fingers. He’d felt Matt’s lips on his own lips, around his cock, and at his neck, but he hadn’t spent nearly long enough simply thrusting his own fingers into the other man’s mouth. Exploring. Acquainting himself with Matt’s body. Hux let his knuckles brush against teeth and soft palate, thrusting his fingertips enough to make Matt choke and gag in a way that had him moaning indecently afterward. The tech’s eyes were closed, blond lashes fluttering on his olive skin, like he was having a religious experience. Hux knew, so acutely, that Matt was experienced, no stranger to sex. And yet, he so easily lost himself in the sensations -- it was freedom enough to almost enough to make Hux envious. That kind of escapism was completely foreign to him and half-repulsive to think about, but Matt seemed to be enjoying himself.

Slowly, Hux withdrew his fingers from the warmth of Matt’s mouth, watching the line of spit trail indecently from his fingertips to Matt’s lips. His slick fingers cooled delightfully when they hit the chilled air of the room.

“You’re gorgeous.” Hux murmured, meaning: depraved, shameless, _filthy_. Everything Hux had ever wanted in his bed. And Matt grinned in his lopsided way, beaming back at him under the praise.

With renewed vigor, Hux reached behind Matt, trailing his fingers down the crack of his ass, letting slick wet fingertips circle the sensitive ring of muscle for a few moments. If only to tease. To taunt. With a little effort, Hux had the tech whining low in his throat. With one hand on Matt’s neck, keeping him close and still, Hux slowly pushed one finger inside the other man. He marveled at the ease. “Experienced, aren’t we?”

Matt smiled, one corner of his lips twitching up higher than the other side.  “I am.” Hux found himself staring, focusing on the man’s subtle movements. At the moles on his face, the creases of his smile. The blonde rolled his hips, rocking against both Hux’s clothed cock and back on Hux’s finger. “More,” Matt demanded before Hux could even process the fact that he was not jealous that there were perhaps many before him, but incredibly turned on by the technician's experience. Delightfully, when Hux tightened his fingers around Matt’s neck enough to feel his pulse, Matt even deigned to add “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Hux withdrew the one finger to work two in, impressed with how nicely Matt’s body yielded to him. He was warm and slick, and so damn responsive, even with how relaxed his muscles already were -- perhaps because of it.

The idea of sliding his cock into that heat immediately was tempting, but Hux was a man of control. And he had been daydreaming about this moment for shamefully long. He wasn’t going to ruin it due to an inability to control his own impulses.

“Next time, I’m first going to open you up with my tongue.” He curled his fingers, searching, moving until Matt made a filthy noise that Hux could feel the vibrations of around his hand. “Perhaps that’s all I’ll do. I won’t give you any relief, I’ll just tease you gently until you’re crying and begging for my mercy.” He pressed against Matt’s prostate, fingertips rubbing in small circles until Matt was panting and whining. A wreck. “And then I’ll send you home.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

Matt shuddered, hips grinding down of their own accord on Hux’s fingers. Indulgently, he traced a third finger around Matt’s hole before pushing it in alongside his other fingers, going straight for his prostate once more. He paid no attention to the other man’s cock, which was throbbing and warm and dragging against Hux’s trousers. Occasionally Matt’s hips would rock against him just so to create a pleasant drag against his own length: rutting, like an animal. But he let it be nothing more than a momentary distraction. Hux kept up his ministrations until he looked down to find Matt’s cock leaking freely against his uniform, until Matt’s body was twitching and his breaths were coming out ragged and halting.

“Would you be so kind as to reach into my drawer,” he tilted his head to the left, indicating the table next to his bed, “and grab the lubricant? My hands are otherwise occupied.” To prove his point, he tightened his hand around Matt’s throat while also pressing against that sweet spot, dragging a depraved moan from Matt’s lips. Oversensitive and on edge, Matt still obeyed. He leaned over once Hux let go of his throat, pulling the lubricant from the drawer.

“Good boy.” After their few encounters, Hux had learned that Matt thrived on praise. From what he had seen of the general technicians’ working environments, that was understandable -- they seemed to be constantly under fire from superiors, working under ridiculous deadlines with brand new technology and very little guidance. Regardless of reason, however, the praise always made Matt shiver underneath Hux’s hands.

He reached down and freed his own cock from the confines of his trousers, slicking himself with a generous amount of lubricant. Matt watched him intently with dark eyes, sitting back on his feet, still straddling Hux’s thighs. The General indulged a little, slowly sliding his fingers over the warmth of his own length. He continued until Matt whined and squirmed, and then he gave in. “Come here.” He beckoned the other man forward.

Hux hooked his hands around Matt’s thighs and pulled him into a satisfactory position. “You are going to ride me.” _Like the whore you are_. He could shove Matt down against the bed, grind the blonde’s face into the sheets and simply take his pleasure from the willing body, but the temptation to watch Matt come unraveled was too much; Hux wanted eyes on him at all times.

With a steady hand, he lined up his cock with Matt’s entrance. His other hand stayed on Matt’s hip, guiding him. “Slowly.” Hux warned, easing the tip of his length into that willing heat and savoring every second of it. Matt shuddered above him, his muscles rippling with the exertion of attempting to restrain himself. It was admirable, honestly -- Hux could tell that Matt wanted little more than to spear himself on Hux’s cock and ride himself to immediate completion. And where would the fun be in that?

“You are not to move until I allow it.”

He could feel Matt’s body yielding to him, the slick heat of his muscles enveloping Hux’s aching length, torturously slowly. The other man shivered above him, groaning when Hux pulled back out after an inch, only to press back in, beginning with short, small thrusts whose only purpose served to torment Matt. “Hux,” His voice was already delightfully broken, cracked around the edges. “ _Please.”_

Matt’s body was already coated in a sheen of sweat, and Hux ran an appraising hand down his chest, pleased at the expanse of body before him. “You are such a specimen.” At the peak of physical fitness., perfectly cut. This man should have been a stormtrooper, a tool of the Order. No matter -- now he was Hux’s to appreciate, to use as he saw fit. Matt groaned, and Hux felt a wave of something warm in his chest -- something he would’ve called affection, had he known better. Sympathy, perhaps.

“Shh,” He hushed, “I’ve got you.” Slowly, he pushed his length the rest of the way inside Matt, until he was fully sheathed. He took a moment to appreciate the feeling of slick warmth all around him, dragging his nails over the other man’s hips. Stars, this felt even better than he’d anticipated.

Slowly, he began rocking his hips, pistoning in and out of the other man in an easy, slow rhythm. Eventually, he tilted his hips enough to hit that sweet spot inside Matt with every thrust, enjoying watching the way it made the other man moan. Eventually, he had his fill of complete and stern control, and drew a palm over Matt’s flank. “You may move.”

There was something beautiful about watching Matt fracture, with the way he lost himself in the sensations, the way he gave into the natural movements of his body at Hux’s command. He was so free, so willing to let his entire consciousness narrow down to the pleasure itself. Completely consumed. And Hux was happy to help him with that, to gradually increase the pace of his strokes, the hardness with which he gripped the other man’s hips.

By the time Matt was shuddering and gripping at Hux’s shoulders with his nails, whining and bending down to kiss him sloppily, Hux was fucking into the other man at a brutal rhythm. With each thrust of his hips, Matt was moaning and shaking. His eyes were closed to the pleasure, and yet he still kissed Hux. All of this, and Hux hadn’t even touched Matt’s cock, even though Matt was grinding down against him. The General bit at the technician’s lip, hard enough to bruise and moved a hand to Matt’s throat to squeeze. To get Matt’s attention. “Would you like to come?”

The answer was an instantaneous and frantic nod, Matt seemingly lost to any verbal answer. For once, Hux figured he’d let that slide. In the future, he would be less lax. He’d ask for words, for more of Matt’s attention. Now, he was also reveling in the sensations of getting his hands on Matt for the first time, just letting himself enjoy it. Not perhaps to the extent that Matt was, but greatly so. As it was, Hux was already having more fun than he should’ve been.

Matt was falling apart on top of him, breaking at the seams. His body was glowing with sweat, his skin red from exertion. His cock was leaking against Hux’s trousers, dragging against him when Hux fucked deep into Matt and rolled his hips. He wished he had the foresight to record this somehow, because the image of Matt looking so debased, so lost, would haunt Hux now every time he closed his eyes. He knew it.  

Hux wrapped his fingers around the thick length of Matt’s cock and gave a few easy tugs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to topple Matt’s foundation, to push him over the edge. Watching him crumble was like gazing at a masterpiece; Matt absolutely shattered above him like a priceless work of art. His face contorted into pleasure and his fingers gripped haphazardly at the blankets underneath Hux, searching for purchase. For stability. Hux jerked him through it, dragging Matt’s come back over his cock to coat him with the slick of it, to coax every little sensation out of him until he was shuddering with overstimulation. Hux kept moving his hand, gently and easily as Matt grew soft in his fingers, until Matt was whimpering into the crevice of Hux’s neck. Only then did he yield.

“You’re so good.” He murmured against messy blond hair, gripping Matt’s hips with his hands, “So very good.” Before long, he was thrusting hard and fast back into Matt’s body, taking his pleasure as he saw fit. There was a cacophony of moans straight in his ear from the other man, all breathy and ragged, and in the end, they were what did it for Hux, plus the way Matt’s body convulsed every time he thrust against the other man’s prostate. He grunted, losing himself in it for a moment, letting himself run his hands up and down Matt’s back as he came down from the sensations.

He reveled in it for one last second, let out a breath, and then put his hands on Matt’s shoulders to push him back slightly. Unsurprisingly, Matt moved swiftly at the touch. After the first time, Hux learned that the other man didn’t like sticking around afterward. Which was fine. And also very convenient.

Hux inspected Matt’s face: fatigued, sweating, sated. The technician was still panting, but he was already pulling himself slowly off of Hux’s softening cock. Hux reached out before he could stop himself and brushed a bead of sweat from Matt’s red face, “You certainly look like you enjoyed yourself.”

Matt gave a curt nod, rolling to the side and running a careful hand through his already disheveled hair. “Yes,” he agreed, but gave Hux no more as he climbed off the bed.

The General sat himself up against the pillows, briefly glancing down at his filthy uniform, knowing he needed to send it for cleaning, before watching Matt dress. The other man moved with fatigue, but it was impossible not to see that he was infinitely more relaxed than he had been before. For a brief moment, Hux let himself feel pride. Matt donned his vest and fished his terrible glasses out of a pocket and put them on. “Thank you.” He murmured to the ground -- and with that he was out Hux’s door. Gone. The same as before.

\--

"Have you noticed that he's acting strangely?"

"Who is?"

Hux tossed a nasty look in Phasma's direction, "You know exactly about whom I'm speaking." A sigh. " _Ren_." He clarified needlessly, if only to say the Knight's name with malice for the pure satisfaction of it. It did make him feel fractionally better.

"I don't think he's acting strangely at all."

"He hasn't destroyed anything in a week," Hux paused. "No -- _weeks_." Briefly, he entertained the possibility of Ren calming, becoming a normal and sane individual who dealt with their anger in a healthier manner. Like smoking. Or having recreational activities or hobbies. He also entertained the more likely scenario that Ren was simply directing his negative energy elsewhere, in a more discreet and underhandedly deadly manner. "You don't think he's taken to covertly murdering my crew, do you?" The thought was neither pleasant nor unlikely. There would be a lot of paperwork involved. Had anyone checked the trash compactors for bodies?

"I don't think so."

Hux hesitated, before speaking again. His next concern was a bit more embarrassing. But Hux wasn’t imagining things -- he was a very observant man.

"He's also been trailing me like a kriffing salky hound."

Phasma leaned in, elbows planted firmly on the metal table of the officer's lounge. It was happy hour and they were both enjoying drinks on the house, as were most of the other senior officers who currently had a mandatory break in their schedules. Luckily, their table was situated in the corner, away from any curious ears. “He _is_ particularly attuned to you, isn’t he?”

“He’s _what_?”

“Attuned. To you.” She sounded so casual. Hux couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. After a moment, he realized his mouth was left partially open; he shut it. It was absurd. Ren was no more attuned to Hux than he was attuned to the consoles he destroyed, to the days he ruined.

"I know it sounds ludicrous, but he is. He anticipates your movements, knows when you’re in a _mood_ , and generally acts far more human to you than to anyone else.” Herself excluded, obviously. She was kind enough to not mention that, at least. “Besides. He watches you when you aren’t looking. If he’s not subconsciously attuned to you, he’s certainly consciously so.”

At that, Hux nearly lost his composure, alcohol freeing up his inhibitions, letting his heartbeat race and his fists clench. “Excuse me?” He could feel his face turning red in something that felt a whole hell of a lot like anger. And perhaps a small bit like embarrassment. “He most certainly is not _attuned_ to me. And he doesn’t watch me, that’s absurd.” The very thought was stomach turning.

Phasma hummed. And smiled. And flagged down a couple more drinks for the both of them.

The conversation meandered towards other topics, but Hux couldn’t shake the disquiet from his bones at the thought of Ren watching him while his back was turned.

\--

It was frighteningly easy to fall into a pattern with Matt.

Hux would get a message from the technician, typically after a long and grueling day on Hux’s part, requesting to meet Hux at his quarters. Hux never asked how Matt knew which days were best, either assuming coincidence or misuse of First Order technology to check the superior officers’ schedules. More often than not, Hux would agree in the affirmative, eat dinner, shower, and then open the door for a technician, a rant already forming on his lips about how this or that piece of technology was malfunctioning in his quarters. After all, he had to be prepared if anyone were to be standing in the hallway.

Each night was different, but each was cut from the same cloth.  

“Suck,” Hux ordered, slotting his fingers around Matt’s neck, feeling his pulse beat steady and fast underneath his fingertips. When Hux tightened his hand, he could feel Matt choke out a breath, struggle for a moment to breathe, and then finally relax to Hux’s will. He opened his mouth and his throat, and let Hux take what he needed.

“Down,” Hux pressed his hand to Matt’s spine, letting his fingers drift between the scars and dark moles that dotted the blonde’s skin. Once the other man was spread out flat on Hux’s sheets, it was so easy to climb between his legs, to pepper kisses down the dimples of Matt’s lower back, to draw his tongue over the heat of him. To lick Matt until he was crying in Hux’s hands, begging for something more than just Hux’s tongue.

“Mine,” Hux caught himself murmuring against Matt’s neck once, clamping his teeth down to form a perfect bruise. It was the heat of the moment, that was all, but Matt didn’t notice, just kept riding Hux with his eyes half closed, lost to the pleasure of it all.

“Harder,” Matt pleaded into Hux’s neck, teeth catching on Hux’s pale skin. Hux had taken it achingly slow this time, spending two hours working up to finally sliding inside Matt’s tight heat. He refused to give him anything more, refused to change his pace from the slow drag that it was. Eventually, when Matt came, untouched, it was with a scream that echoed through Hux’s quarters, tears and sweat streaming down his face.

Hux liked the routine. Perhaps a bit too much. But the sex was good and Matt never stayed. There was no harm in finding an outlet for stress, for allowing himself something nice, for once.

\--

"I see that the Yavin 8 mission was a success."

The voice came from directly behind Hux's position on the bridge on the Finalizer. He didn't startle, because he wasn't startled -- but he did bristle, because he couldn't help the visceral reaction that occasionally accompanied Kylo Ren's modulated voice grating against his eardrums.

"Yes," Hux answered, turning to face the masked monster. The bane of his existence. "That is what the report you were forwarded states, isn't it?"

Ren paused. "Are you implying that the mission was less of a success than the report suggested, General?"

Hux gritted his teeth, his shoulders squaring for the fight their interactions always became. Ren had the unfortunate habit of reading too much into simple words when there was nothing behind them and misinterpreting the meaning of unsaid words when they did exist. Phasma _never_ had this problem.

"No, Lord Ren. I'm saying that the report contained all the necessary information regarding the mission. That there is no further need to discuss it, as there is nothing to be gained." Hux snapped, watching subordinate officers inch away from the two of them out of the corner of his eye, "Other than wasting each other's precious time."

Ren stiffened; the barb landed where it had been intended. The argument was so old and so rote that Hux didn't even need to voice the dagger of it: that Ren had so much free time that he spent most of it either skulking in the shadows or destroying Hux's ship or his base. Fundamentally, Hux knew that Ren had duties, that he was training under Snoke still, but it never seemed like it, especially when he was always picking up after the other man. It was a constant source of contention between the two of them, and Hux was pleased to note that Ren still bristled at the accusation.

Hux stood his ground when the Knight lurched forward. There was a jolt of static coming from Ren's voice modulator, but no words to follow it -- like he had taken in a breath to say something, but had then lost his bravado. Hux tried not to feel a wave of pride wash over him. But, judging by the way Ren's body seemed to shake in anger, Hux had not entirely succeeded. There were times he heavily minded that he apparently _'projected'_ loudly enough for Ren to hear -- and other times, it ended up being frightfully convenient. It put a whole new meaning to emotional warfare.

"Is that all?" Hux raised his eyebrows, keeping his face as blank as possible.

Unfortunately, instead of fleeing, Ren stood his ground, radiating something that felt a lot like hatred. The air was static around them, teeming with the force as it always did when the Knight grew angry. Hux could feel it on back of his neck, on his fingertips, on his lips.

"It seems like you've acquired a significant amount of free time in your schedule, as of late." Ren pitched his voice low, leaning toward Hux in a manner that would've seemed threatening, had Hux not been rather preoccupied with a careful glance around them to make sure none of the underlings had heard.

" _Excuse me?_ " He hissed, biting back a curse and letting his eyes narrow. Luckily, their current vicinity was free of -- anyone, actually. Nearly all of the crew had cleared out and the only remaining people in the room were suddenly quite far away and _very busy_ with their tasks at hand. The essential staff, of course. Hux made a mental note to give each of them bonuses for placing their work ahead of their own personal safety. The electricity kicking up in the air, popping with current and potential, was impossible to miss and difficult to tolerate.

Hux imagined a monster grinning under Ren's mask, smirking in satisfaction. He wanted to rip it off of him. "You've been thinking very loudly." The Knight supplied, "It's exceedingly difficult to miss."

Like always, their interaction had devolved rather spectacularly. An inane comment from Ren, to a barb from Hux, to whatever this was. At least it kept the General on his toes. "Feeling voyeuristic as of late, Ren?" Hux hissed. Perhaps he thought a little forcefully about the slide of flesh against flesh, about his hand covering a toned thigh dotted with moles, about the wet warmth of kissing into Matt’s mouth -- if only because it was his only ammunition against such an invasive weapon as Ren’s mind reading.

For a moment, Hux could tell himself he won. Ren merely seethed in his direction, up in Hux’s space with nothing between them but the steady hiss of a long breath through Ren’s modulator.

“Ah.” Ren finally spoke, standing so close that Hux could feel the warmth of his body radiating outward. “You’re getting attached.” Hux immediately seethed.  Ren, with his usual flair for the dramatic, turned in a billow of dark robes, making toward the doorway.

Before Hux could think any better of it his voice called out to Ren, his tone accusatory and harsh: “Jealous?”

Ren’s footsteps did not falter as disappeared out the door, but Hux knew he’d heard.

It wasn’t until later, by the time most of the crew had filtered back onto the bridge and resumed their daily activities, that Hux realized the apparent reality of his own taunt. He’d meant it as a juvenile barb, as a simple ploy to anger and annoy the Knight, but he hadn’t realized the possibility of truth in it.

_Jealous_.

It explained so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a major warning for dubcon in this chapter. if you feel like you need more information, please see the end notes before you foray into this pile of trash.

Hux wasn't the sort of person to let himself be caught by the iron grip of anxiety. He had grappled with it as a child and as an early adolescent, but he'd had it beaten out of him at the Academy. Now, he tucked all of his feelings, desires, and concerns away in discrete boxes in his own head, never again to see the light of day. That kind of compartmentalization was both useful as well as absolutely crucial in his line of work.

And yet, it did nothing to slow the rapid beating of his heart at the thought of the monster that was Kylo Ren being infatuated with him, enough so that he was _jealous_.

Hux wrung his hands before slamming a fist into the panel next to Phasma's quarters. He squared his shoulders before she opened the door, though he knew it would do little for his appearance.

"Bad day?" She asked, knowing full well the answer from the shadows under Hux's eyes. He strode past her into the room with a huff. Immediately, he found her stash of Corellian brandy and poured himself a drink. And then, thinking better of it, he generously poured another and handed the second to Phasma. It was her alcohol, after all, and it was a rather ungodly hour.

"He's jealous." He cut straight to the chase, after indulging in a lengthy gulp.

"Is he?" The lack of surprise in her voice was -- not necessarily remarkable, but certainly irksome. Hux frowned.

"You knew."

"Of course I knew. I did try to tell you on multiple occasions."

Hux's eyes narrowed. "Did you?" He recalled no instances of Phasma ever mentioning Hux being the object of Kylo Ren's infatuation. Or -- whatever he was to Ren.

Calmly, Phasma took a sip of her drink. She didn't seem at all flustered by this horrendous turn of events. Perhaps because she didn't have a _monster_ watching her every movement. "You must not have been paying attention. Just the other day I mentioned that he watched you. I'm not sure how you've been so uncharacteristically oblivious." She smiled. "But you've been busy, it's understandable." God, Hux wished she would stop flashing those perfect teeth at him. She was a terribly handsome woman and so very predatory -- he appreciated that fully. Perhaps in some parallel universe, where they weren't both rather steadfastly interested in different genders, they could rule the galaxy together, hand in hand. As it was, Hux was lucky to have her as a friend and a confidant, even if she was atrociously irksome at times.

"I've --" Hux frowned, analyzing his own time management through the eyes of an outside observer. Like Phasma, or even Ren. Unfortunately, it wasn't pretty, especially given all the time he had allotted to Matt recently. Time which, over the course of the past few weeks, had grown considerably. Embarrassingly so. "I've been busy." Even Hux noticed that his voice sounded unsure as the words passed his lips.

"You have. And you're looking better for it."

Hux felt better for it, too, but he wasn't about to admit emotional shortcomings due to his own self-imposed lack of socializing. Instead of commenting on it, he moved onto a more pressing matter. "What am I supposed to do about this whole," he waved his hand around in the air, "thing? I have to discourage it." And there came the problem: how does one discourage someone such as Kylo Ren?

"Why would you discourage it?"

Hux frowned. "Why _wouldn't_ I?"

Phasma leveled him with a look that was equal parts amused and unimpressed. "You're just as obsessed with him as he is you." She settled into a chair and he did the same, albeit begrudgingly. "Though he's significantly less tactful about it."

Hux balked, open mouthed. He took a long sip of his drink, and then another. He could only bring himself to respond after he felt the pounding in his chest slow and the ringing in his ears dampen, if only slightly.

"I'm not obsessed." The entire idea was preposterous. Ren was a menace. And a monster. There was simply no way that Hux paid him any thought other than mundane annoyance.

The Captain hummed, never dropping that disarming and self-satisfied smile. "You bring him up in nearly every conversation we have."

"He's a constant source of frustration."

"Even when it's not work related."

"He's, --" Hux paused, considering. He _did_ bring up Ren frequently, but only because the man caused so much frustration to Hux that his presence in Hux's thoughts was near-constant. He was always there, looming in the corners of Hux's consciousness, enormous and mysterious and terrible. His heart beat uncomfortably fast in his chest as he mulled over the situation, panickedly sorting through the evidence. It all came down to one, unfortunate thing: "Kylo Ren is an inconvenience. A _weakness_.” A weakness for the Order, and also for Hux, apparently. It would not do.

“Thank you, Captain. This conversation has been -- illuminating.” He downed the rest of his drink and stood. “I will leave you to the rest of your evening.”

“Hux,” Phasma sighed, rising to her feet to follow him on his course to the door. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing.” She sounded quite a bit like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. At any other moment in time, Hux would have chided her for sounding so put-upon. But now -- now, his entire worldview had been tipped on its side: there was no time for petty grievances. He wanted to leave. He _needed_ to leave. All of a sudden, the room was stifling.

“I apologize for the late hour. Consider your morning shift covered.”

And with that, Hux was out the door and making his way down the hallway For a moment, he realized he felt a bit like Matt, always leaving while Hux had words on his lips. But Phasma could deal, and Hux would cover her shift -- if only because he didn’t envision himself sleeping any time soon. His mind was racing far too fast, his heart pounding near out of his chest.

Instead of sleep, he needed a distraction.

\--

> _Are you available?_
> 
> **_-ChessAndTactics71229_ **

Hux sent the message before he could think better of it. It was only after he sent the message that Hux realized that he should both have thought better of immediately reaching out to Matt to relieve his tension, and also that he knew absolutely nothing of Matt’s schedule. It was usually Matt who messaged him first, in fact. Other than the first time Hux had reached out to Matt, the only other time Hux had deigned to send the first message had been after a particularly grueling meeting with Snoke where Hux had been left with his anxiety high, his body and brain overflowing with an excess of energy. The response had been delayed by a few hours, Matt presumably on shift in the bowels of the base, perhaps needling around in some unused access tunnels. For a while, Hux had felt inordinately silly for bothering him. But eventually the tech had responded in the affirmative and Hux had forgotten any uncertainty.

Now, the feeling was returning, as the minutes inched on without a reply.

He did paperwork.

He ate dinner.

He responded to dozens of political inquiries.

He reorganized his filing system for personnel requisitions and transfers.

And then, finally, Matt’s response came.

> _Yes. I will be there shortly._
> 
> **_-RadarLove_ **

An affirmative, just as he had imagined and desired. It wasn’t quite that Hux was relieved -- but his untethered nervous energy did immediately focus down to one singular point: his desire for Matt. He wanted to have him, to take him, to ruin and consume him. In the end, it was completely unprofessional, misguided, and simply _wrong_. His worrying attachment to Matt and his consuming need to keep coming back to the other man went against all his principles. But it wasn’t nearly as wrong as feeling anything other than infuriating hatred toward Kylo Ren. It left Hux choosing the lesser of two evils.

He also decided, while roughly shoving Matt against the metal of his door the second the other man entered Hux’s quarters, that he needed to mull over his attachment to Matt. It was highly unprofessional to continue this kind of conduct, not to mention maintaining this sort of prolonged relationship with someone underneath him in status. And yet, despite all of his better judgement, that hadn’t stopped him beforehand.

Hux gave into his frustrations. He went for Matt with ferocity and need in his movements, hands going for his clothes, his skin -- any part of him he could get a hold on. Hux slotted his teeth over Matt’s collarbone and bit down, attempting to commit the feeling to memory, letting his tongue slide over familiar salty skin.

Matt groaned, his eyebrows furrowed with some sort of sentiment -- Hux wasn’t sure which and he didn’t care to know. Not now, and not later. “Hux,” Matt panted, his hands moving to grip at the lapels of Hux’s uniform, to perhaps get his attention. Hux bit down on his own tongue. “Hux,” he repeated, and the General answered him by shoving two fingers into Matt’s mouth, blocking any further words.

He didn’t want to think, didn’t want Matt distracting him. Didn’t want Matt asking why he was so lost in his own thoughts. All he wanted was to act and to feel, to have Matt writhing and moaning underneath him.

That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

With a grunt, he pushed more of his weight against the larger man, slotting a knee between his legs and wrapping his hand around Matt’s muscular neck. He squeezed, in warning. “Did you have something to say to me?” When Matt just groaned around his fingers, wet and sloppy, Hux finally let himself relax, if only slightly. “Good. Your mouth could be put to much better uses than talking.” For now, the better use was warming Hux’s fingers while Hux busied himself with marking up Matt’s neck with bruises and bitemarks. It was be a pity to sacrifice this sort of indulgence for the code of his own ethics, but attachments were both worrying professionally and easy weaknesses to exploit.

And, with his apparent attachment to Matt, and to _Ren_ , Hux had to carefully consider his decision to take these sorts of chances.

Matt whined, pushing back against Hux’s body slightly -- needy. Pushier than normal. Matt swallowed, attempting to talk around Hux’s fingers, but Hux only pushed down on his tongue. Grabbing at every ounce of control he could. “Ah -- what did I tell you?” He snapped, immediately and roughly pushing Matt to his knees. Despite whatever Matt had to say, the words died on his tongue under Hux’s fingers and he went down easy. God, he was beautiful; his eyes stayed trained on Hux’s the entire time he slid to the floor. The epitome of perfection. If only dealing with the Knight of Ren were so easy.

If only Hux could kriffing get Ren off his mind.

His heart pounded at the creeping realization that he was just as obsessed as Phasma had suggested. Here he was, attempting to enjoy an encounter with Matt, and his thoughts kept drifting in the Knight’s direction. His chest clenched and swallowed back the panic in his throat. No -- he was better than this. Better than Ren.

With neither pomp, nor circumstance, Hux fed his cock into Matt’s mouth, over the two fingers already there. Stuffing him full. Hux’s length was already hard and leaking, and the wet warmth of Matt’s mouth had him groaning. Slowly, he slid his fingers out, admiring just how slick they were. “Disgusting,” Hux hissed, wiping the mess on Matt’s cheek. Defacing him.

Immediately he rocked his hips, thrusting into the other man’s mouth, letting the pleasure distract him from any of his more pressing concerns. He didn’t want any insidious thoughts creeping into his consciousness. He wanted to think about the angular shape of Matt’s face while he enthusiastically worked over Hux’s cock, the way his dark eyelashes fluttered against his skin with each movement of Hux’s hips. He wanted to focus on the way Matt’s large hands were fisted into the rough fabric Hux’s pants -- how his skin was calloused, olive and freckled, not covered in menacing leather gloves like Ren’s. Hux swallowed, and then Matt swallowed around him and Hux allowed himself to groan.

“Beautiful,” Hux murmured, looking down to catch Matt’s gaze. The technician was looking up at him with wide eyes, pupils blown wide into amber irises. There was a hint of urgency in his gaze, made poignant by the the way he readjusted his grip on the back of Hux’s pants, tugging and pulling at them like he wanted something. For a pleasurable moment, Hux indulged himself in the mental image of spreading Matt out over the bed like a prince, taking his time with it, fucking into the other man for hours. He could wring orgasm after orgasm out of Matt like he had done before, until he was begging for mercy, tears running down his face.

But he didn’t have the patience for that. And, to be brutally honest with himself, he didn’t think he could hold it together that long before he broke.

What Hux wanted was to take, to lay claim. To rid himself of these intrusive and insidious thoughts of Ren.

“Come here,” He pulled Matt off his cock with a hand around his neck, yanking him back up to standing. Matt came, lips dripping with spit, a confused expression on his face. As Hux walked the other man backward to the bed by the throat, it was impossible for him not to consider their height difference. It was slight, but Matt was a couple inches taller than him. He stood broad and tall in front of Hux, though he moved backward with only the slightest of touches -- pliant and easy despite his hulking mass. The similarity was unmistakable now: Matt was exactly Ren’s height, and perhaps similar to Ren’s build as well, under all of those ridiculous cloaks that the Knight favored. Hux snarled, and pushed Matt back on the bed, crowding in on top of him immediately. He relished it: Ren would never let him do something so crude, would never allow Hux have the upper hand. He caught Matt’s lips in his own, snaking a hand down to fist the other man through his trousers, suddenly giddy with the power he had.

Matt groaned into Hux’s mouth, kissing him harder and with abandon. “Hux,” he groaned, biting at Hux’s lips, breathing hot and heavy against him. Those large hands tugged at Hux’s hair, pulling him back for a moment so that the tech could bite his neck fiercely, his movements all choreographed as if attempting to gain Hux’s attention. So much needier than usual, so desperate. It was preposterous, as Hux’s attention was solely focused on Matt -- and Hux proved it by roughly yanking his trousers open and taking the other man in his fist.

Matt groaned, his hips bucking off the bed and into Hux’s hand. He was completely pliant under Hux, subservient and perfect with his hands fisted in the sheets. It was intoxicating to think that Hux could be his brutal undoing, that he could keep him like this for eternity. The General could, if he wanted to, reschedule Matt for a private work detail. With words and power alone, Hux could keep the technician locked away in his own quarters as a plaything to be taken apart whenever he saw fit. He could break him and put him back together again countless times, could have the other man bending to his every whim. He could have everything with Matt that he didn’t have on a daily basis with Kylo Ren.

Before he could think otherwise, Hux’s mouth was on Matt’s cock, taking him in greedily. He smoothed his palms under Matt’s shirt, up and over the smooth expanse of his stomach, as he worked him over with his tongue, with his mouth. It wasn’t at all what Hux had been planning, but the overwhelming need to taste the other man on his tongue was unbearable. He couldn’t ignore the instinct to take him apart, to grace his teeth so lightly over flesh that Matt’s hands fisted clumsily in his hair.

“Hux,” Matt groaned, seemingly doing his best to both yank Hux away from his cock and to thrust deeper into his mouth. It was an interesting sensation, being on the receiving end of the technician seemingly at war with his own desires. The yanks and tugs to his own hair hurt and stung and spurned him on with a groan. Despite the humiliation of it, Hux even allowed Matt to buck his hips, to fuck into Hux’s throat. It was sore and sharp, and it felt so good, having the other man so lost in his pleasure.

Eventually, Matt lost himself. He grasped and grabbed at Hux’s hair, silently choking out curses as he came, spilling himself into Hux’s throat. Hux pulled off, swallowing the bitterness of Matt’s come. The other man dragged him into a bruising kiss before Hux had a chance to steady himself, kissing him until they were both panting with it.

“Fuck me,” Matt begged. Hux nodded sharply, and pressed a kiss to the technician’s jaw.

Yes -- he would fuck Matt, and not think once of Kylo Ren.

\--

“Did you have anything to add to mission briefing for tomorrow morning?” Phasma asked, falling into place next to Hux’s side, where he was staring out the viewport window of the hangar bay. He watched the snow fall silently on  their forgotten planet, doing his best to focus entirely on the moment itself.

“No. I believe you have it sufficiently covered.” The sun was setting outside and the fatigue was creeping into his bones. “Do you have the team chosen?” he asked, sparing his Captain a glance. Unfortunately he’d been feeling more tired as of late, but he could only blame that on the considerable effort it took to mentally outrun his own problems.

They spoke for a few more moments before Hux felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, the air in the hanger changing ever so slightly. Becoming charged. He hesitated a moment before turning his head, only to catch a glimpse of a dark figure skulking from one side of the large space to the other. Hux turned, abruptly, jaw set and firm. He nodded at Phasma. “It seems as if you have everything under control. I shall take my leave.”

Phasma sighed, letting her whole body turn to watch Ren’s moving figure, uncaring if she was obvious in her body language. Actually, upon further thought, Hux was sure she was attempting to be blatant about it.

“You’re _avoiding_ him, aren’t you?” Phasma accused in a way that made Hux want to retreat into himself for days. Perhaps, embarrassingly, because it was true and he had absolutely no excuse.

“I simply haven’t had occasion to see him. I would never do something so childish.”

There was a pause, as she considered -- that was never a good sign. She knew him too well.

“Oh stars. You’re avoiding _both_ of them, aren’t you?”

This time, Hux spared her a glance, not that it helped his pride any. She was barely containing herself, biting her lips to keep from grinning and choking back what appeared to be laughter.

“No,” he snapped, obstinately. He pulled out his datapad from his pocket, thumbing through recent messages, hoping for an emergency as his heart pounded in his chest. He kept watch on Ren’s ominous figure out of the corner of his eye. “I have simply been busy.”

“You’re not a very good liar when you’re flustered.”

Ren’s figure halted three-quarters of the way across the hanger and Hux’s breath caught. His stomach then did a magnificent job of attempting to crawl out of his chest cavity and through his throat. Vaguely, feeling moderately detached from himself, he recognized the panic rising in his gut. “I --,” Hux jabbed a finger at a message at random, “I have to go. This must be handled.”

“That’s about repairs scheduled for next week.” Phasma sighed, resigned. “At least talk to the poor tech, will you? You were far more bearable when you were getting laid.”

“I’ll see.” And with that, Hux bid a hasty retreat into a nearby corridor, escaping before Ren was even halfway to where he and Phasma had been standing.

\--

It was perhaps unfair, just how much effort Hux had been putting into arranging his schedule to be as busy as possible. He filled his days with mundane activities, putting far too much on his plate to reasonably accomplish -- though he finished everything anyway. His productivity was increased vastly, though perhaps for the wrong reasons. Every minute of his day was packed with work, meetings, and training. At a certain point, he was multitasking to the point of doing four things at once.

And yet, as busy as he made himself, he still kept having to dodge both Kylo Ren and Matt, the only people he was actively attempting to avoid. It wasn’t surprising that Ren always knew where to find him, with his connection to the force. Hux wasn’t entirely sure how it worked -- all he knew was that Ren knew far too much about Hux’s moods and thoughts, as well as where to find him on any base or ship. It was equal parts annoying and frustrating. Even then there was part of Hux that he didn’t appreciate acknowledging that found it incredibly alluring and mysterious. He’d had enough time now to at least accept a small truth of Phasma’s accusation. Ren was unique in the universe. He was aggravating and clever, enigmatic and terrible. Hux had never once felt so compelled to both hate and admire someone. And, most interestingly, Ren felt something for Hux. The General wasn’t entirely sure _what_ that emotion was exactly, but the Knight had trailed Hux like a shadow since they first met, obviously intrigued by something. To be perfectly honest, as much as his constant presence irked Hux, he had also gotten deplorably used to it.

The strange telepathy and irksome sort of omniscience that came with Ren’s disquieting connection to the force explained how Ren always knew how to find Hux. Matt’s ability to find him and to know his free hours, however, was far more troublingly inexplicable.

In the beginning, Matt had kept his distance. He had only communicated with Hux via the appropriate channel stated in their oral agreement: conversing via _Ordr_. He had almost always initiated the conversations and encounters, but that was appropriate given the disparity between their ranks. After a while, Hux occasionally saw Matt in the corridors, and once in the main control room. It had always been after prime hours, and each and every time when Hux caught a glimpse of that orange vest and that blonde hair he’d gone red hot, heart pounding away in his chest. But it had never been unwelcome. It had also always precipitated a rather enthusiastic encounter afterward. Once or twice, Matt had shown up at Hux’s quarters because he’d been in the vague area, but he’d always messaged Hux moments beforehand. Now? Now Matt was everywhere Hux looked. In the officer’s lounge, in the hallways, in the control room.

There were countless messages sitting unanswered in Hux’s _Ordr_ inbox.

Matt had even left a handwritten note stuck to Hux’s door. Hux had bristled at that, fearing someone might have seen it in the time that it had been sitting there neglected while Hux slept, but it turned out that it was the carbon copy of a tech-department ticket for services rendered. A few random and incongruous boxes were checked and on the signature line at the bottom it simply said, “ _Message me. -Matt.”_ The sentiment behind the note, as well as the effort that went to disguise it, was compelling, but Hux needed time. And space. He needed to distance himself from his own thoughts and attachments, and he couldn’t do so while he was clouding his own judgements with distractions.

It was perhaps unfair to Matt to avoid him with no explanation, but there were no words Hux could utter to explain it, to justify it. It was also, simply, not a conversation he wanted to have -- he wasn’t about to admit to Matt that he was unhealthily attached to both him _and_ Kylo Ren. That was neither a kind nor mentally sound statement to make or admit to. The best way to deal with the problem was to give it space, to give Matt and Ren ample amounts of breathing room. Hux’s emotions would cool off and everything would cleanly resolve itself.

\--

It continued similarly for days.

Hux avoided Ren.

Hux avoided Matt.

And, to some extent, Hux did his best to also avoid Phasma, who seemed more judgemental each and every time she saw him. He had already sat through multiple lectures about a variety of topics that he never wished to even think about again, including how it shouldn’t _matter_ what Ren looked like under the mask, and that she was sure he wasn’t atrocious looking anyway -- as if that had even been one of Hux’s primary concerns. It embarrassingly _wasn’t_ one of his concerns. It should’ve been. Hux pictured Kylo Ren as a monster underneath that ridiculous mask, and even with a variety of awful mental images indulging multiple scenarios of “monstrous,” Hux’s fascination wasn’t diminished. Yes, he was vain and picky most of the time, but evidently a terrible personality was all Hux cared about when it came to minions of the _Dark Side._ Perhaps it was the allure of the unknown. Or the fact that, in a certain number of Hux’s fantasies, Ren never removed his mask at all and preserved the mystery. He did attempt to bury those thoughts, however, especially knowing Ren’s propensity toward listening in on Hux’s thoughts. At the very least, he did his utmost best to not broadcast them.

“Been busy, General?” Ren finally cornered him one day in a hallway. Momentarily, Hux felt ambushed, like a wild animal.

But he was no rabbit -- he would not run from this, frightened and weak. He stood his ground and did his best to look unimpressed and uninterested. “I have.” He leveled Ren’s mask with a stare, “Did you want something, Lord Ren?”

There was a beat, a moment where Ren appeared to be thinking of the proper response. Hux willed his thoughts to quiet, focusing on his annoyance at the situation. He attempted to project something akin to hatred, though he wasn’t entirely sure _how_ to do so in the first place, only knowing that he had done so before. Ren bristled with a stiffening of his shoulders before he spoke, so Hux knew he’d done something properly. “Your absence has been noted.”

Hux frowned. Always with the stupid theatrics. “Noted?”

Ren only nodded, once.

“Go ahead, Ren. Take note of what it is to accomplish your work in a timely manner. I’m sure Snoke would appreciate your dedication to the cause. As you have nothing more important to be doing, hm?” Hux sneered while his heart hammered away in his chest.

“I do my job.” Ren growled, looming close and into Hux’s personal space.

“Do you, Ren? Do you _actually_? From what I’ve seen, you expend far too much energy focusing on how I spend my free time and ignoring your own training. You’re becoming a useless deadweight, Ren.”

The General could’ve sworn he heard the gritting of teeth through Ren’s vocalizer. Or, perhaps that was simply wishful thinking. His mind was too preoccupied on projecting hatred and annoyance that he didn’t have time to bite back fantasies of angering Ren to the point of the other man losing his self control -- not that he had much to begin with.

When the Knight didn’t respond, Hux tilted his head a fraction, lips firmly turned up in a smirk, “Was that all, _my Lord?”_ The title was unnecessary, but Hux also knew that Ren disliked it when the honorific wasn’t implied in the meaning. And stars, Hux most certainly did not have any feelings of honor toward Kylo Ren. When Ren simply glared and leaned forward ever so slightly, drawing in a mechanical breath, Hux turned on his heel and left, leaving Ren alone in the hallway with his own thoughts and accusations, and hopefully the remnants of Hux’s loathsome projections.

\--

As satisfying as it had been to leave Ren in the hallway, tongue-tied and alone, Hux found himself restless that night. His skin itched and crawled with the need to finish something, even though all of his reports and forms had been accomplished for weeks ahead.

His productivity had stalled, simply for a dearth of work.

Lacking anything better to do with his time, Hux went about his nightly routine. He ordered dinner to his quarters, reveled in an uncharacteristically lengthy shower, and finally sat at his desk to savor a tall drink with a pinch of sugar and ice. It felt terribly indulgent to be doing be doing nothing productive with his time -- but he had nothing else to do, for once. He perused a few books and journals he hadn’t had a chance to touch in years. He pulled out and glanced at the original plans for Starkiller Base, remembering the excitement and anticipation that he’d felt at the thought of his plans coming to fruition. It had been exhilarating. These days, it seemed all he could focus on were petty and childish feelings.

Perhaps he was blowing things out of proportion. Slightly.

He’d gotten distracted by temptations of the flesh. If he could indulge in them without distraction, it would be fine -- but he’d let emotions get tossed into the mix. Years ago, Hux would’ve been able to brush off a small attachment to Matt. He would’ve been able to stamp down any sort of budding inclination toward Kylo Ren, regardless of its nature. Hux had grown -- soft, perhaps. It was unacceptable and he would have to rectify it. Soon.

A chime broke through his thoughts.

And then again.

He blinked down at the plans for the base, thumbing over the schematics before he turned to scowl at the door, the origination of the intrusive sound. At this late hour, he wasn’t sure who could possibly be calling at his quarters without any sort of warning. His mind raced through the possibilities as he stood: it was likely Phasma, but the possibility that he would find either Matt or Ren looming in his doorway was both probable and unsavory.

Hux hit the door-release with more force than necessary, steeling himself for any possibility.

“General.” Matt stood waiting at his doorway.

He looked different than normal, though Hux wasn’t sure he could pinpoint exactly what had changed. Matt’s blonde hair was just as disheveled as usual. His clothes, while they were not his trademark jumpsuit, were still regulation training clothes: black pants and a black short sleeve shirt. Casual, but not unprofessional. For all intents and purposes, he was the same Matt: awkward and quiet under Hux’s gaze. Yet, he looked taller. His eyes looked leagues darker and far more tumultuous. His shoulders, squarer. He looked tightly coiled and explosive. It occurred to Hux that he perhaps should have contacted Matt sooner.

For a brief moment, Hux had never been more hopelessly attracted to someone, simply because they looked dangerous. And slightly unhinged.

“Matt,” he said, swallowing.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” The technician’s voice was low, barely a growl. It went shamefully straight to Hux’s cock. His brain unhelpfully supplied a very nice, visceral image of Matt pressing him against the bulkhead of his quarters. He imagined giving into that, letting Matt’s anger fuel a lengthy encounter. Hux had to bite the inside of his cheek, hard, to get rid of the image.

Briefly, Hux debated offering up an excuse, but he knew it was worthless. Matt knew that Hux was avoiding him. Hux knew that Matt knew. So, he stayed silent, staring down Matt in his doorway, doing his best to look completely uninterested.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Matt said. For a moment, he looked just as imposing as Kylo Ren on the battlefield. Hux tried to shake that mental image, feeling uneasy about the wave of lust that washed over him at that comparison. Matt took a step toward him and into Hux’s quarters, while Hux reflexively took a step backward.

“It wasn’t intentional.”  
“It was.” Matt argued, and took another step. He reached up, running his fingers over Hux’s cheek. The gesture was relatively sweet and gentle, despite the anger raging in his eyes. Hux should’ve recoiled, but he didn’t. He couldn’t make himself.

Hux couldn’t argue and he also couldn’t quell the rolling arousal in his gut. When he said nothing, Matt continued on, “I enjoyed our time together.” He took another step. “Did you, General?”

It was difficult, not to stare into Matt’s dark eyes, this close up. They were filled with anger, with lust, and what Hux could only identify as amusement. Amusement, perhaps, that he was backing Hux into his own room like prey -- and that Hux was willingly going.

“I did.” Hux took in a breath as Matt rested a hand on the back of his neck and then immediately tightened his grip. When Matt kissed him, the gesture was both expected and unexpected, and Hux melted into it against his better judgement. His entire body relaxed into acceptance of something he had been very keenly depriving himself. Matt’s body felt right, felt perfect against his own, and briefly he wondered why he had been avoiding this for so long.

Matt backed him into a wall, kissed him bruisingly hard, and fisted a hand in his hair until Hux whined.

Matt lifted him up, so that Hux’s legs were wrapped around Matt’s waist, letting Matt bury his face in Hux’s neck, biting hard enough to bleed.

Matt tossed him onto the bed, crowding over him, touching everywhere at once, until Hux could barely think.

Hux lost himself in the sensations for a long while, letting Matt divest him of clothes and then lavish Hux’s entire body with kisses and bite marks. It was perfect worship, as if Hux were a god, or an emperor. It was heavenly and indulgent, and it was exactly what Hux needed to unwind.

After a moment, he moved to right himself, to roll over and push Matt’s body into the mattress. But, when Hux tried to move, he found himself pinned, both wrists in one of Matt’s large hands.

“Matt,” he tried, attempting to pull his own focus away from the sensation of the blonde’s tongue roaming over his ear, then his jaw, and then down his neck.

“Mm?” Matt only hummed, pressing his body closer to Hux’s, grinding down and drawing an unbidden moan from Hux. It was shameful, the exhilaration he felt at the brief thought that Matt might not let him up. Hux knew he would -- he always did. It was that safety, that knowledge, that made the exhilaration possible. So, he indulged a little longer, reveling in what he had avoided for so long.

After a while, his cock ached from lack of attention, despite his hips having Matt’s body to rut up against like he was once again a foolish teenager in the Academy. He needed a hand on himself, immediately, even if it was his own. “ _Matt_ ,” he tried again, pulling his wrists, finding them still held firm by the technician. His heartbeat spiked, anxiety rising.

“You’re fine,” Matt murmured, slotting his teeth over Hux’s jugular and drawing them slowly outward. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” Matt rocked his hips down again, pulling yet another groan from Hux, the sound laced with arousal and shame.

The dreadfully embarrassing part of it was that Matt was right: Hux _was_ enjoying himself, tremendously so. Even through the anxiety and the concern that Matt might _not_ let him up, Hux was eating up the attention like he was starved for it. It was even possible that the apprehension was what was fueling his desire so. The thought that Matt might _not_ be so kind as to let him up was shamefully exhilarating. No one on the base ever challenged him, other than Kylo Ren.

Hux swallowed and groaned, his eyes closing in humiliation as his hips moved of their own volition to rock up against Matt’s. Seeking friction, seeking relief. The self-indulgent movement drew a dark chuckle out of the blonde, who caught Hux’s lips in a deep and biting kiss. Matt was huge and imposing above him, taking up all of the space, all of the air around them. Matt worked a leg between Hux’s own, his mouth wandering everywhere within possible reach. Invasive. Hux could barely breath and certainly couldn’t think, beyond squirming underneath the other man.

He wanted this, wanted the euphoria of giving in to Matt’s strength. Wanted the exhilaration of Matt simply _taking_ , and not following the rules.

But he simply _couldn’t_. It was against his own rules, his own boundaries. His heart skipped a beat when he imagined it, imagined himself on his knees with Matt crowding over him, splitting him open, taking what he could. It was both tremendously appealing and horrifyingly degrading. Matt was below him in rank, in status, in everything and every way -- that simply was just reality. And Hux couldn’t give in. He couldn’t bend so easily.

He swallowed. Took a breath. “Matt.” Hux said, steeling himself into composure, keeping his tone firm and steady. He did everything he could to keep any emotion from his voice, be it need or fear or shame. When Matt blatantly ignored him, pulled open his shirt and kissed down his stomach, Hux let the anger rise in his chest. “ ** _Matt_**.” He’d never sounded quite as authoritative than in that moment.

Matt stopped, looked up. He looked vaguely amused, despite everything. Unflustered, despite Hux’s anger. “Did you want something, Hux? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“Let go of me.”

Just like that, Matt did. He released Hux’s wrists and sat back on his haunches, straddling Hux’s thighs. Hux still felt unreasonably small underneath Matt, but he could breathe again, could finally hear himself think. Only momentarily did he miss the stifling weight of the other man over him.

“I will not allow...any of that. Not if this is to continue. We discussed the rules.”

“Rules are meant to be broken.” Matt let his large hand wander up the inside of Hux’s thigh, warm and steady.

Hux hissed, trying to quiet any of his thoughts that begged desperately to have Matt’s hands on him again, working their way into more and more intimate locations. “I am your superior officer.”

“Is that your only qualm, General?”  
It was a good question. It was, perhaps, his only qualm with the possibility. It was a personal rule, a point of character for Hux. If he tromped all over his own sensibilities and ethics, where would he be left? It was an impossibly slippery slope, and he wasn’t the sort to make those sorts of sacrifices.

“It is my only qualm, yes.” No point in lying. “But I am not willing to negotiate.” He had to remain steadfast. Unwavering.

“Alright,” Matt murmured, before he was pressing Hux down to the bed again, slotting their lips together greedily. Suddenly, Matt was everywhere once more -- at Hux’s neck, his lips, his ears, his chest. The tech’s hands caught his own again, threading their fingers together, and Hux could only growl out a warning. Their next kiss was sharp and biting, and Hux took his time drawing his teeth over Matt’s lower lip in punishment, hard enough that he drew a whimper out of the other man. Good. It’s what the blonde deserved.

And yet -- when Hux pulled at his hands to free them from Matt’s, he found that they did not move. That Matt was not relinquishing control, still holding him firm and tight.

“Did we not _just_ discuss this, Matt?” Hux kept the anxiety out of his voice, as well as the desire. Neither would serve him well, now.

“We did.”

“And?” Matt touched two fingers under Hux’s chin to tip it upward for a gentle kiss. His other hand cupped Hux’s cheek lightly. For a moment, it was a distractingly intimate gesture. Full of warmth and promise. It was only after a few seconds that Hux attempted to move again, to run his fingers down Matt’s back, to pull him close to reciprocate the intimacy.

The weight pinning Hux’s hands did not lessen. When he tried to free them, yet _again_ , they would not come. Matt was _still holding them_.

Despite --

Hux broke the kiss and surged upward, or at least attempted to, trying to get a good look at his own hands that were still pinned above his head. “Did you _tie me_ , you kriffing buffoon?” But it did not feel like he had been tied -- it still felt like Matt’s hands were around his wrists, despite the fact that they had been on Hux’s face only moments earlier. Now, Matt held them in mid air, fingers splayed in a universal sign of innocence. He looked positively pleased with himself, his large mouth shifting into a grin full of teeth and malice.

“No. Not tied, exactly.” Matt sat back once again on Hux’s lap, warm thighs bracketing Hux in. The position didn’t allow Hux much movement, but regardless, he managed to twist and wrench himself in such a way that he could arch his back off the bed and get a good look at his own wrists. He was not pleased with what he found. He stared at his wrists, bare and barren of any visible bonds for a long while, ignoring any discomfort at his twisted position, before he turned back to his companion.

Hux grit his teeth. Took a breath. There was only one reasonably logical explanation for this, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Ren.” The name felt like a curse on his tongue. At least his anxiety and his fear were gone, replaced by a familiar and cherished wave of anger. Now, at least, Hux was on familiar ground. He glared up at man holding him taut to the bed, seeing him in an entirely new light.

Ren looked not at all sheepish. He sported something akin to a grin, far too pleased with the current circumstances. The uneven angles of his face were illuminated by the harsh light of Hux’s quarters and his eyes looked darker, more deranged, than before. He was -- an attractive specimen, despite any and all misgivings Hux had for Kylo Ren the man. And, perhaps importantly, he was most certainly not the monster Hux had always imagined him to be.

“General.” Ren nodded down to him, leaning back to stretch. His back arched, cat-like, as he reached toward the ceiling and let out the smallest hint of a noise. Carefree. Hux wanted to punch him square in that uneven jaw, or perhaps those gigantic ears -- if only he could move his hands.

Ren’s hands eventually settled in his messy blond locks, threading through the strands to take hold. “I don’t suppose I need this anymore.” And with that, what apparently was a blonde wig was gone and tossed to the floor. Dark and disheveled hair cascaded down to take the blonde hair’s place, curling at the precipice of the Knight’s broad shoulders. “Or these.” He tossed the ridiculous glasses to the side, all the while keeping his gaze on Hux.

He was, perhaps, even more attractive than before.

For a moment, Hux couldn’t find words. He could barely see through his own blind rage. It wasn’t as if he felt betrayed, exactly -- this was precisely the sort of reckless behavior he expected of Ren. He couldn’t put a finger on how he felt, other than annoyed, trapped, and still, inexplicably, aroused. He had no word for the combination, other than simply his usual swirl of emotions when dealing with the Knight of Ren.

“I loathe you,” Hux said, meaning every word of it.

Ren leaned forward, drawing a calloused fingertip down Hux’s pale jaw. “You do. I can feel it.” Of course he could. Hux was doing little to dull his emotional barriers at this point. He wanted Ren to drown in his anger, his hatred. “And yet, you also seem to -- care?” He looked strained for a specific word, perhaps because Hux strained for one as well. He had no perfect descriptor for his attachment to Matt or to Ren. To the same loathsome, infuriating man. “You’re attached. Against better judgement, at that. How sweet, General.” Ren almost sounded surprised. Almost.

“I am not.”

“There’s little point in childishly arguing when you are practically screaming your thoughts directly into my head.”

Ren didn’t stop the slow and steady exploration with his fingertips while he talked -- first, along Hux’s jaw, then his his collarbones, and then down his chest. Ren was warm above Hux, his body heat spreading through Hux like wildfire. The paths his fingers took burned against Hux’s skin, searing and scalding as they went. Perhaps Ren was torturing him -- perhaps Hux would die here, would burn up on his bed. Full of shame and anger and traitorous desire.

Hux swallowed, heard the click in his throat, loud as a gunshot in the silent room. “You’ve had your fun, Ren. Why are you still here?”

Ren raised his eyebrows, inquisitive, and pressed the pad of his thumb to Hux’s bottom lip. Gentle. “Do you want me to leave?” For the first time, he sounded cautious.

Hux opened his mouth to bite out an obvious affirmative, but stopped himself short. _Did_ he want Ren to leave? His first assumption was that this whole charade had been an elaborate joke, or perhaps a test, formed up in Ren’s mad imagination. But it had gone on too long. The knight had lingered past the point of explanation, past the point of sanity. And, at that, Ren’s eyes were still too full of caution and desire. Hux studied him, flexing his own fingers and moving his wrists to find that Ren was no longer holding him down. He reached one hand out to settle on the bulk of Ren’s thigh, a single point of offered contact. Kylo Ren was young -- perhaps Hux’s age, if not a few years his junior. He looked eager and wanting, and, at least for a fleeting second, like he might break if Hux ordered him to leave.

“Stay.”

The word was both an order and a question, punctuated by a squeeze of his hand against Ren’s thigh. It was an idiotic decision. But everything Hux had done in the last few months had been vastly foolish and completely against every personal rule he had set up for himself years ago. There were so many implications, so many questions left unanswered. One day, he would have to tackle them.

For once, Hux decided to put his personal interests before anything else, before even reason.

Ren was still looking down at him, puzzled and hopeful and so senselessly young. It was intolerable and pitiful. Hux grabbed him by the hair with a growl and tugged him down and into a kiss, telling himself that it was simply so he had to look at the Knight no longer. Ren’s lips met his with a crash of teeth and lust, and Hux was struck with how _right_ it felt, letting himself have this.

As he licked into the other man’s mouth, bit his lips and pulled his hair, Hux realized that he now had everything he wanted. Matt and Ren, all tied up and blended together in the one attractive man currently pushing him down against the bed. It was intoxicating, realize that he could have this indulgence, that Hux was now free from guilt.

Ren’s hands pulled off Hux’s shirt, and then went for the waist of his pants, dipping rough fingertips underneath the seam and against sensitive skin before halting. “May I?” He asked, pulling away from the kiss with wet lips. What did Hux have to do to get Ren to act like this on duty, to operate with this sort of caution and tact?

“Please.” He was trembling at the mere idea of giving in to Ren’s strength and to both of their desires. The thought was heady and exhilarating -- and the understanding that it was actually within reach was thrilling. And when Hux imagined the other man shoving Hux into the mattress, thrusting into him with wanton desire, Ren groaned straight into Hux’s ear. Ah, of course. For once, Hux found the idea of broadcasting his thoughts and feelings advantageous. And also highly erotic. He threaded his fingers into Ren’s hair, licked down his jugular, and let himself vividly imagine Ren opening him up with his fingers, until Hux was loose and wet and wanting. Ren shivered above him, moaning and panting into Hux’s hair. He could hear the Knight curse in exasperation before Ren was pulling himself off of Hux, finally divesting Hux of the rest of his clothes. While he was up, he also shedded his own clothing, crawling back fully nude over Hux when he finished.

“ _Stars_ ,” Hux murmured, letting his eyes and then his fingertips rove over Ren’s body. “Look at you.” If Matt was a specimen, Ren was a Renaissance statue. He held himself with the confidence and authority that Matt hadn’t -- and with those two traits, he was leaps and bounds more attractive. Hux considered himself lucky to be in this situation, as ridiculous and absurd as such a sentiment was.

Ren’s lips quirked upward in a self-satisfied smile. He let Hux touch for a moment longer before anchoring Hux’s wrists to the bed by his sides with the force. “Look, then.” Ren ordered, and then began to kiss down from Hux’s throat, to his chest, and down his torso. His lips roamed, never staying on a single patch of skin for long. Sharp teeth left red bite-marks on pale flesh, reminders of the moment to stay for days afterward. Pinned by the force as he was, Hux couldn’t touch, so he could only watch as Ren’s lush mouth moved lower, until he was pressing kisses to Hux’s inner thighs, breathing over Hux’s cock teasingly.

“Ren,” Hux warned, flexing his wrists against his invisible bonds. At this point, Hux was achingly hard and was biting back the embarrassing desire to whine for some sort of relief.

“Patience.” Ren said, sinking his teeth slowly into the flesh of Hux’s thigh. When he apparently found himself satisfied with the bite, he shifted. But not in the way Hux might have expected. In one fluid movement, he took Hux’s thighs and hoisted them over his shoulders, lifting Hux’s ass and lower back up and off the bed. Hux attempted to stifle a noise of surprise with little success. With no ceremony or warning, Kylo Ren licked his way down Hux’s thighs and dove straight in, attacking Hux’s ass with his tongue. If he’d given more warning, Hux might’ve argued, might’ve put up some front about it. But Ren’s enthusiasm and vigor knocked the breath out of Hux, quieting any protests he might’ve had. “Oh _stars_ ,” he breathed out, his hands grasping at what they could reach of the sheets.

The sensation was not necessarily a new one, but Hux had never experienced someone quite so passionate as Kylo Ren. Ren did everything with ardor, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise the passion with which he went about opening Hux up with his tongue. He approached the task not as if there was an end goal, but as if he was enjoying the process itself. Losing himself in it. And Hux -- Hux was also lost to it. The slick sensation of it was overwhelming and intoxicating. He felt dirty and debauched, and quite a bit like he was surrendering his propriety to Ren -- it was thrilling. With his thighs over Ren’s shoulders and the Knight’s large hands spreading his ass cheeks apart, Hux felt exposed. He’d never been so turned on in his life.

When Ren slid a wet finger in alongside his tongue, Hux thought his heart might stop in his chest. He yearned to shove his fist in his mouth, to stifle the noises that were being choked out of him, but Ren wasn’t letting his hands up from against the mattress. Perhaps because he so knew what Hux might do with them.

Any anxiety Hux felt at the prospect of allowing himself to be taken by this man earlier had completely dissipated. He knew, in some vague sense, that making himself vulnerable in Kylo Ren’s presence was not the most mentally sound of ideas he’d had, but there was little that could convince him that this wasn’t absolutely brilliant. This wasn’t something he’d done in years, but his body remembered, even when Hux did not. His muscles knew to relax under Ren’s ministrations, to open up for him. It was all Hux could do not to moan loudly into the quiet of his quarters when Ren worked a second finger in so soon after the first.

“Shh,” Ren hushed. “You’re doing very well.” Hux groaned, and felt the blush all the way down to his chest. The words should have been demeaning, should have been a verbal slight at his own expense, but instead, he found himself comforted. He blamed the force, and not the easy cadence of Ren’s voice or the calming hand that brushed over his hip. It was easier than admitting that Hux too, on occasion, thrived under praise. It was very difficult to care, however, when Ren began scissoring his large fingers, opening Hux up with relative ease. Hux’s breath caught in his throat when Ren’s fingers curled in a particularly delicious manner. His hips bucked of their own accord, his body instinctively searching for the sensation again. Seeking it out. Ren laughed and Hux got lost in the sound as the other man crooked his fingers once more, giving Hux exactly what he wanted. It was blissful. For once, Hux let himself have it, he surrendered himself to it.

After a few moments of sheer indulgence, Ren stilled. He pulled away, dragging his teeth down Hux’s pale thigh. “Lubricant?”

“In the drawer.” Hux panted, too worked up to point out that Ren knew exactly where it was. It hadn’t moved since he’d -- well, since _Matt’d_ been in Hux’s quarters last. “Get it.” Ren ordered, and Hux immediately felt the pressure on his arms release. He took no time to flex and stretch or to relish his newfound freedom, instead he obeyed and went straight for the drawer to retrieve the lubricant. He passed it back over, daring to make eye contact with the Knight as he did. It was so vastly different than glaring down Kylo Ren’s dreadful mask or catching Matt’s hesitant gaze. Ren’s eyes were dark and piercing, confident and all-knowing. Now, in this moment, he looked brutally ravenous. It was impossible for Hux to not feel stripped thin underneath his gaze.

He’d never felt desire quite like this before. It was impossible to ignore, all consuming and paralyzing. He drank it up, like expensive wine, reveling in the feeling of it.

Hux’d never before been one to beg, even in his younger, less-disciplined years, but still he found himself meeting Ren’s eyes and hoping for something like mercy. “Please.” He didn’t think he had it in him, at this point, to endure more teasing. This whole kriffing charade now felt like a courtship, a precursor to something so much larger. And Hux was going to give into it, because now there was absolutely nothing stopping him.

“Demanding.” Ren uttered, though the crook of his lips said _pleased_. “As if I expected anything different.” He lowered Hux’s legs back down to the bed with a surprisingly gentle movement, and then went to spread some lubricant over his fingers.

“I should’ve known Matt was you,” Hux bit out as he watched Ren, all of the normal vitriol unfortunately absent from his voice, “For how boorish and self assured he was. The resemblance is unmistakable.” He couldn’t summon any real hostility, despite feeling the need to grasp onto it if only for something familiar to hold onto.

“Hush.”

“Don’t tell me to _hush_ ,” Hux snapped, though he quickly found his lips occupied as Ren leaned over and caught him in a heady kiss. There was only a beat before Hux felt Ren settle more firmly between his open thighs, before he felt Ren push two fingers into him again. Filling him up once more. This time, the slide of them was easy and slick, and it had Hux immediately moaning into Ren’s open mouth. He bit back any embarrassment he felt, telling himself it had been _so long_ since he’d partaken in any such activities that he was simply out of practice. The truth of the matter was that it had never felt quite so good before. Even with just Ren’s fingers, the sensation was decadent and overindulgent. And yet -- Hux wanted more. Needed it.

Before he could even ask, before he could even contemplate begging, Ren was sliding a third finger in alongside the other two. Hux groaned with the stretch of it, tucking his face into the other man’s neck, biting the skin there to stifle himself. There was no biting sting, just the slow pull of his body yielding to the girth of Ren’s fingers. His knuckles provided a delightful friction once Ren began the slow movement of his digits, stretching Hux, curling his fingers occasionally until Hux shivered.

Once Hux was panting and shivering, once the slide of Ren’s fingers was easier, Hux deemed the exercise complete. Yes, he was out of practice, but he wasn't inexperienced. His patience was dwindling and he didn’t need Ren babying him or treating him like he was made out of glass. And besides, if Hux yearned for a bit of the sting that would accompany Ren pushing inside him, that was both his own business and a choice he was allowed to make for himself.

Before he could call a halt to the proceedings, Ren murmured into his ear, “You want it to hurt.” And Hux cursed -- of _course_ Ren was in his head. He was inside Hux already, so it was only obvious that there was no part of Hux that was sacred, that was his own space. Ren laughed, a dark and low sound, pressing a kiss to Hux’s temple. “You’re simply thinking very loudly.” Ren crooked his fingers, pushing them hard up against that delightful place inside Hux until he groaned and fisted his fingers in Ren’s hair in retaliation.

“Fuck me,” Hux ordered. He tugged Ren’s wild hair until they were kissing, until he was dragging Ren overtop of him, hooking one leg over the other man’s hip. “Fuck me now, or I will find the nearest bulkhead door and throw you into the snow.” There was one three hallways away. Mere steps and Ren could be face down in the snow.

“Demanding,” Ren reminded, but he finally withdrew his fingers. He then, evidently, felt the need to slick up his length with the lubricant, even though Hux tried desperately to project his opinion that that wasn’t necessary. “Have a modicum of care for your own well-being, General.” Ren scolded, sliding his fingers over his own length and sighing. “After all, what if I wish to bed you again in the morning?” And wasn’t that an alluring though? Waking up and blinking away the fog of sleep, only for Ren to lazily slide into him, easy and slow. Hux shuddered.

Ren didn’t acknowledge the absurdity of Hux’s short fantasy. Instead, he caught Hux’s lips in his own and finally gave in to Hux’s desires. He pressed the head of his cock against Hux’s entrance and eased forward, achingly slowly. Hux gasped, and while his hands grasped Ren’s hair, his shoulders, and his back, his efforts to speed up Ren’s progress were blatantly ignored. “Patience,” Ren chided, resting his hand on Hux’s hip.

When Hux bit out a “ _fine_ ” and ceased clawing at Ren’s back in a futile attempt to coerce him forward, the Knight resumed his progress, easing himself into Hux at a dreadfully slow pace. Hux’s body accommodated the wide girth of him after being stretched so carefully. Ren eased a few more inches in, and then caught Hux’s mouth in another deep kiss. After a moment’s indulgence, Hux pulled back from the kiss, ready to bite out something pithy about Ren moving too slowly. However, he never got the the chance: Ren roughly thrusted the rest of the way inside in one movement, burying himself swiftly to the hilt. Hux groaned loudly, fingernails clutching at Ren’s arms. He breathed out a “ _stars_ ,” even as he was seeing them in his eyes. The sudden intrusion stung and burned in the best possible way, his body suddenly filled to the brim with Ren’s cock.

After a moment of allowing Hux to adjust to the fresh bite of pain, Ren moved without prompting. His first few thrusts were short and shallow, enough to have Hux begin choking out pleas for Ren to move faster, harder.

And stars, did Ren deliver. Hux could barely contain himself when Ren shoved him roughly down against the bed, picking his legs up from underneath the knee to drive into him like the fate of the galaxy depended on just how thoroughly he could fuck General Hux. His thrusts were deep and passionate, and the speed was perfect. Just enough to drive Hux into throes of pleasure without even a hand on him. He’d never had someone like Ren before, someone passionate and dedicated and _wild_. On occasion, Ren would catch Hux’s eye and Hux’d get lost for a moment in the fervor of his gaze.

Kylo Ren fucked nothing like “Matt” despite having the same body. Interestingly, Hux didn’t think it had anything to do with the fact that he wasn’t the one fucking into Ren this time. He wasn’t sure what to attribute the change to, but all of Matt’s awkwardness was nowhere to be found. Ren’s body was toned and hard, well-trained and cultivated, and he knew how to use all of it. He wasn’t necessarily full of delicate grace, but his movements were fluid and elegant. Every shift of Ren’s, however small, had Hux moaning and seeing galaxies.

Eventually, Hux was covered in a sheen of inelegant sweat. He was panting. Groaning. Aching. “Ren,” he managed, fisting a pale hand into the other man’s hair, pulling him in for a messy kiss. He bit at Ren’s lips, kissing him hard enough that he tasted blood. “Is that --” Hux groaned, tilting his hips in just the right way for the best angle, “-- all you can manage?” A challenge. Familiar. Natural.

Ren took the direction beautifully, with a growl and a grunt. His pace shifted to more frantic, driving in longer and harder, each time grazing against that delightful place inside Hux. He never would have pegged Kylo Ren as a particularly attentive lover, but even while pursuing his own pleasure, he made sure to keep Hux shivering and moaning underneath him. Not for a moment did Hux feel neglected. Or, perhaps more accurately, not for a moment did he feel like Ren wasn’t focused entirely on Hux. It was overwhelming, having so much energy and attention focused only on himself. Overwhelming and absolutely shattering.

“Ren,” Hux managed, his skin afire, “please.” All of his nerves were singing out with the desire to be touched, with the need for release. “Please,” he repeated, until his brain was on stuck repeat. His moans became peppered with a litany of _please’s_ , spilling out from his mouth, unbidden as Ren drove into him. It would have been frightfully embarrassing, if it didn’t end with Ren breathing out a laugh and giving in.

Long fingers wrapped around Hux’s length, stroking him once, twice -- before Hux was coming all over himself. The pleasure washed over him like the explosion of a supernova and he was completely lost to it, choking out curses and prayers and pleas. His fingers clawed down Ren’s back, his face burying in the other man’s neck as he rode out the passion of his own orgasm.

When the white faded from around Hux’s vision, when he felt the waves of pleasure dwindle and fade, he became aware of Ren’s attention on him. The other man had not ceased the vigor of his movements, but his eyes were firmly on Hux’s face, seemingly lost in watching him. Hux could feel the faint tingling of the force on his own skin, presumably as it swam in the air around them both.

After a couple panted breaths, Hux grasped Ren’s hair and dragged him into a bruising kiss. He wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist in a clear invitation to keep going, to fuck into Hux however he desired.

Ren’s pace slowed ever so slightly, his large hands moving to cup Hux’s face as he licked into his mouth. Ren was hot and steady above him, his thrusts hard and deep, filled with a passion Hux had yet to see. Despite his oversensitivity, each drive of Ren’s hips had Hux moaning into the other man’s mouth. Pleasure flickered around him, phasing in and out of focus. It was hard to not get lost in the threads of it, not to swim in it, drown in the sensation. Hux was vaguely aware of kissing Ren hard, tasting blood, dragging his fingers through Ren’s hair, over and over, until his entire body exploded once again in sensation.

When he came to, Ren was panting over him and shuddering, head buried in the crook of Hux’s neck. As The Knight’s breath slowed, he pressed his mouth to Hux’s collarbone, sucking long and hard before he worked his way up Hux’s neck with lips and teeth, licking along Hux’s sharp jawline. Eventually, he came to Hux’s lips, lazily kissing him until they were both out of breath once more.

“Stars,” Hux whispered, feeling the sweat and come drying on his skin. Ren took him into his arms and flipped them both so that Ren was on his back, no longer crushing Hux with his sturdy bulk. Hux took a breath, and another, and then let himself settle half on top of the other man.

Normally, by now, Matt would have left.

And yet, Hux found himself not lamenting the fact that Ren was still in his bed, taking up Hux’s precious space.

After a few moments of listening to Ren’s steady breathing, Hux let himself relax into Ren’s warmth. “You’re not gone,” he mused, figuring Ren had already heard the thought, at least partially formed.

“I’m not.” Ren paused, brushing his nose against Hux’s hair in brief moment of what seemed awfully close to affection, breathing him in. “You don’t want me to leave.”

It wasn’t a question, so Hux didn’t deign to answer. There was little point in lying. Or, affirming, for that matter. He didn’t need to feed Ren’s ego any further. Instead, he ran a hand down the muscled landscape of Ren’s torso, tracing his fingers over the well-defined muscles. “We’re absolutely filthy.”

Hux took a breath, and tried not to think about the drying come on his own stomach, how every part of him that was pressed against Ren was slick with sweat, how he could see a smear of blood on Ren’s neck. He tried not to think how he was likely just as much of a mess as Ren was, disheveled and ruined next to him. And yet -- his mind cycled over it all anyway, taking in every disgusting detail -- and Hux was left uncaring. He shifted, easing his head onto Ren’s shoulder with a sigh. “We really must shower.” In a minute. After he regained feeling in all of his extremities.

Ren snorted out a laugh, running his fingers through Hux’s unkempt hair, his touch surprisingly tender. He nosed at Hux’s ear, biting at the lobe. “Yes. We must.”

\--

Hux was slowly roused into consciousness by Ren shifting behind him, pulling Hux in tight with strong arms. Overwhelmingly, he was cocooned in warmth, in heat. Hux mumbled, turning and burying his face in the sheets, seeking cool darkness once more, not ready for the light of morning. He wasn’t sure how long they’d slept, only that it hadn’t been nearly long enough.

The haze of sleep faded marginally when he found himself pressed face down against the mattress, body held steady and firm by Ren’s bulk.

“Ren,” Hux mumbled against the dark sheets. He shifted ever so slightly, though Ren only pressed him down harder, running a hand down Hux’s side until he dragged a shiver from him.

“Did you not want this?” Ren asked as Hux felt the other man’s hot length press up against him, teasing. Tormenting. Threatening, in the most delightful and enticing of ways. Ren’s cock slid easily against Hux’s still partially slick ass.

It was depraved. Filthy. It was perfect. “Stars, _yes_ ,” Hux groaned. And with that, Ren slid right in, easy and slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dubcon warnings for this chapter:
> 
> • **speech restriction:** hux prevents ren from speaking during a sexual encounter by repeatedly limiting his use of speech. this includes putting his fingers in matt's mouth while he's trying to talk, as well as soliciting oral sex to keep him quiet.
> 
> • **dubcon bdsm** : matt refuses to let hux up during a sexual encounter, to the point of hux's anxiety spiking. hux repeatedly asks matt to let him up/let go of his hands, even though he is enjoying himself, and matt refuses multiple times. it is implied that hux will bottom -- he both wants to and is against it for personal reasons. once matt does let him up, he holds him down again with the force.
> 
> • **mistaken identity** : more of a warning for this whole fic, but there's a good deal of coercion going on here, considering hux has no idea who matt is, while matt is fully aware of the entire situation.

**Author's Note:**

> everything i touch turns to porn.
> 
> many thanks to [mollynoble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mollynoble) for the beta.  
> [linguamortua](http://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua) was the brilliance behind the title.  
> this story wouldn't have a plot if it wasn't for [littlesystems](http://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesystems).
> 
> check out the official ordr playlist! find it [on 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/brawlite/ordr).  
> please look at the lovely fanart! by [sinfullucifer](http://sinfullucifer.tumblr.com/post/141916204748/a-little-something-from-ch4-of-brawlites-fic) and [kyloisadisneyprincess](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6348346).
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://brawlite.tumblr.com), if you are so inclined.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * ["Careful, Matt."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348346) by [Kyloisadisneyprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyloisadisneyprincess/pseuds/Kyloisadisneyprincess)




End file.
